CHIBALD 
CLAVER.ING 
G  U  N  T  E 


Mr.  Barnes,  American 


Mr.  Barnes,  American 

A  Sequel  to 

"Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York" 

«'»,'•  * ' '  *  *  '  *   *  *» 

By 
Archibald  Clavering  Gunter 

Author  of  "Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York," 
*'Mr.  Potter  of  Texas,"  "That  Frenchman,"  etc. 


Illustrations  by 
B.  Martin  Justice 


New  York 

Dodd,   Mead  and  Company 
1907 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  1907,  BY 
THE  HOME  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

Published  March,  1901 


Contents 


BOOK    I  ft; 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    THE    SHOCK    IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT          1 
II    THE     DOCUMENT     IN     BARNES'S    POCKET- 
BOOK       .          .          .          .          .          .'27 

III  PLAYING  THE  ENEMIES'  GAME  ,•          .        48 

IV  "SUSPECT  EVERYBODY!"          .          .          .70 
V    "  FOR  THE  LOVE  OF  HEAVEN,  DON'T  KILL 

THE  COOK  ! "  .          ...          .87 

VI    LADY  CHARTRIS'S  NEW  SUITOR         ,.,          .      106 

BOOK  II 

VII  MAUD'S  CONFIDENCES      .          .          .<          .  128 

VIII  A  NIGHT  IN  NICE  ....  148 

IX  THE  COMING  OF  DANELLA       .          .  .  163 

X  THE   MASSING  FRAGMENT  OF  THE   LETTER  179 

BOOK  III 

XI  "  BEWARE  THE  PATH  AHEAD  OF  Yoir ! "  .      200 

XII  THE  MOUNTAIN  CHALET  .          ..  .      214 

XIII  "GLORIOUS   BANDITS!"  .          .  .231 

XIV  BEFORE  A  CORSICAN  ELECTION           .  .     243 
XV  A  LITTLE  SURPRISE  FOR  MR.  BARNES  .     258 

XVI    ALONG  THE  CYCLAMEN  PATH  .  .          .      272 

XVII    WHIFFS  IN  THE  AIR  .          .          .     300 


948192 


BOOK    I 
CHAPTER    I 

THE     SHOCK    IN     THE     MARSEILLES    DEPOT 

"  I  WONDER  if  I  can  head  off  those  cursed  Corsican 
murder  enthusiasts  ?  "  mutters  Mr.  Barnes  of  New 
York,  as  he  stands  on  the  deck  of  the  French  steamer 
with  Marseilles  looming  up  in  the  heat  mist  ahead 
of  him. 

It  is  a  bright  day  upon  the  tideless  Mediterranean. 
The  waters  of  the  landlocked  sea  ripple  in  silver 
waves  beneath  the  rising  sun  this  May  morning  of 
1883,  after  the  escape  of  the  bridal  party  from 
Corsica. 

Barnes  has  just  arisen  from  the  first  night's  sleep 
he  has  had  in  four  days,  and  having  got  hold  of  his 
valise  at  Ajaccio  and  placed  himself  under  the  ship's 
barber  this  morning,  now  feels  himself  again — that 
is,  American  and  normal. 

There  are  very  few  passengers,  Barnes's  gold 
having  sent  the  steamer  back  on  her  return  voyage 
to  Marseilles  within  two  hours  after  her  arrival  at 
Aj  accio. 


2  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Being-  almost  alone  upon  the  deck,  the  American 
is  rather  careless  of  his  attitude,  and  though  Mar 
seilles  and  che  modern  world  are  ahead  of  him,  also 
London,  where  the  beautiful  Miss  Enid  Anstruther 
has  promised  to  be  his  bride  three  days  from  now, 
his  glance  is  turned  contemplatively  beyond  the 
whirling,  eddying  wake  of  the  propeller's  foam 
toward  that  curious  island  of  a  semi-mediaeval  race, 
two  hundred  miles  behind  him,  whose  rugged  moun 
tain  slopes  and  chestnut  valleys  are  the  home  of  that 
undying  revenge  that  the  Corsicans  think  is  noble; 
that  they  worship,  idealise  and  call  "  The  Vendetta." 

The  representative  of  New  York  fashion,  Ameri 
can  sportsmanship  and  modern  materialism,  who  has 
flitted  to  the  island  and  plucked  not  only  the  young 
English  lieutenant,  Edwin  Gerard  Anstruther,  but 
his  bride,  Marina,  the  daughter  of  the  Paolis,  from 
the  meshes  and  entanglements  of  a  feud  that  only 
ends  with  death,  notwithstanding  his  reward  is  to 
be  the  hand  of  the  beautiful  girl  he  loves,  emits  a 
low,  contemplative,  melancholy  whistle. 

He  mentally  glances  back  and  sees  the  house  of 
Musso  Danella  in  the  moonlit  chestnut  groves  of 
Bocognano,  and  Marina  in  her  bride's  gown  with 
white  mandile  and  faldetta,  her  sensitive,  passionate 
face  filled  with  that  weird  mixture  of  undying  love 
and  uncanny  horror  as  she  shuddered  from  the  arms 
of  the  man  she  had  just  sworn  to  cleave  to  through 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  3 

life  and  muttered :  "  Antonio's  murderer !  "  Next 
he  remembers  the  strange  proof  that  brought  back 
the  wild  happiness  to  the  bride's  face  as  she  learnt 
there  was  no  taint  of  her  brother's  blood  on  Edwin 
Anstruther,  her  husband;  that  her  horrible  belief 
was  due  to  circumstantial  evidence  and  the  jealous 
and  crafty  plot  of  Musso  Danella,  her  guardian,  the 
man  lying  dead  upon  the  floor  of  the  bridal  chamber, 
Tomasso's  dagger  in  his  heart;  and  then  had  fallen 
fainting  into  her  bridegroom's  arms. 

With  this,  the  mind  of  Mr.  Barnes  reverts  to  his 
desperate  efforts  to  get  the  whole  party  to  Ajacci* 
before  the  natives  of  the  little  commune  of  Boco- 
gnano  learnt  they  had  now  another  to  avenge,  and  to 
the  death  of  Marina's  brother  on  the  beach  in  the 
duello  had  been  added  that  of  Danella,  their  old- 
time  friend,  and  to  his  peasants  their  kind  maestro 
and  proprietor. 

Additional  concern  makes  the  face  of  the  American 
even  more  grave  as  he  mentally  hears  the  distant 
ringing  of  the  rifles  on  the  mountain  side  as  the 
carbineers  shot  old  Tomasso  Monaldi,  who  having 
become  an  assassin,  had  fled  as  a  bandit,  as  the  party 
made  their  weird  ride  to  the  Corsican  seaport 
through  the  moonlight  by  the  swift,  white  torrent 
of  the  Gravona  River;  though  his  expression  is 
slightly  relieved  as  he  thinks  of  the  triumph  of  his 
Yankee  gold  at  Ajaccio  that  had  turned  back  the 


4  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

just-arrived  Marseilles  steamer  so  they  could  leave 
the  island  before  the  native  spirit  could  be  aroused  to 
take  vengeance  on  those  whose  coming  had  added 
two  more  dead  for  them  to  avenge  in  that  undying 
passion  that  carries  a  feud  even  to  uncles,  cousins 
and  the  most  distant  of  those  who  bear  the  name 
or  the  blood. 

"  If  no  deaths  had  followed  the  appearance  of 
Marina's  husband  and  me  in  the  island,  perhaps  the 
accursed  affair  might  have  slumbered  and  died  out," 
reflects  Barnes,  gloomily ;  "  as  it  is,  there's  no  telling 
where  the  devilish  thing  may  end.  If  they  have 
money  enough  to  pursue  us,  Holy  poker,  they  may 
even  include  me  in  the  scrimmage." 

A  little,  delicately  gloved  hand  laid  upon  his  arm 
interrupts  his  meditation.  Miss  Enid  Anstruther, 
standing  beside  him,  looking  like  a  joyous  fashion- 
plate  in  a  light  Parisian  travelling  dress,  whispers 
archly:  "Thinking  of  me?"  then  suddenly  ejacu 
lates  in  almost  frightened  tone :  "  Oh,  I  hope  not ! 
Your  face  is  so  moody,  dear."  Blushes  spring  upon 
the  sensitive  face,  and  his  young  English  fiancee 
whispers  with  a  piquant  pout :  "  Gloomy,  and  going 
to  marry  me  in  three  days?  That's  not  very  com 
plimentary,  Burton." 

"  No,  in  two,  if  we  can  make  quick  connections 
for  London,"  answers  Burton,  rapturously.  "  One 
day  is  past.  But  I  wasn't  thinking  of  you,  young 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  5 

lady,"  he  continues,  tenderly,  giving  her  delicate 
cheek  a  caressing,  proprietary  pinch;  "  I  was  think 
ing  of " 

"  What  we  left  behind  us,"  shudders  his  vivacious 
betrothed.  "  Don't  let  us  think  of  that  weird  horror, 

when — when "  The  radiance  of  her  blue  eyes 

and  the  blushes  on  her  fair  cheeks  suggest  the  rest. 

"  When  our  wedding  day  is  so  near,"  whispers 
Burton,  tenderly.  "  I  would  be  very  happy,  too,  if 
our  Corsican  friends  would  only  forget  it."  He 
checks  himself,  biting  his  lip,  and  adds :  "  However, 
the  modern  world  is  before  us.  I  can  see  the  Pharos 
light-house  and  the  lies  des  Perdus." 

"  Why,  we  are  nearly  at  Marseilles,"  ejaculates 
Enid. 

"  Yes,  only  breakfast  between  us  and  every-day 
France,"  returns  her  escort.  "  By  the  bye,  step  be 
hind  the  wheel-house  at  the  stern  with  me  so  I  can 
give  you  a  surreptitious  kiss." 

"  Certainly,"  answers  the  young  lady,  promptly ; 
"  you  are  to  have  all  the  kisses  you  want  for  the 
glorious  way  you  followed  us  to  the  island  and 
brought  us  out  of  that  miserable,  awful  and  cruel 
affair." 

"  That's  very  nice,"  whispers  the  American  in 
the  solitude  of  the  wheel-house.  "  After  breakfast  I 
shall  require  a  few  more.  Now  just  run  down  and 
direct  Tompson  to  get  your  traps  together  and  then 


6  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

tell  Edwin  to  hurry  Marina.  They  should  be  on 
deck.  You  know  as  soon  as  landed,  we'll  get  right 
on  to  London.  We  can  probably  catch  the  morn 
ing  train." 

Miss  Anstruther's  answer  makes  Burton  chew  his 
moustache ;  she  says :  "  If  Marina  is  strong  enough." 

"  Strong  enough?  She's  got  to  be  strong  enough. 
We  must  get  out  of  France.  The  further  we  are 
away  from  Corsica,  the  better.  In  France  they  don't 
need  a  reciprocity  treaty  to  take  us  back  to  that 
mediaeval  island.  There  is  no  telling  what  devilish 
complexion  the  natives  of  Bocognano  may  put  upon 
the  two  dead  men  we  left  behind  us.  I  don't  want 
to  alarm  you — I  wouldn't  say  this  to  Edwin  or  his 
bride — but  the  sooner  we  are  out  of  France,  the 
better." 

"  And  you  think  that  will  be  the  end  of  the  mat 
ter?  "  asks  his  fiancee,  clinging  closely  to  his  arm  as 
if  Mr.  Barnes  were  potent  to  save  her  from  the  whole 
Corsican  race. 

"  Well,  I  think  it  would  have  been  had  we  got 
away  without  old  Tomasso  killing  Count  Danella  and 
the  French  carbineers  shooting  old  Tomasso.  As  it 
is  " — Barnes  pauses  suddenly  and  asks  abruptly : 
"  Did  poor  old  Tomasso  Monaldi  have  any  close 
relatives?  Not  so  very  close,  either.  Cousins,  even 
to  the  second  and  third  degree  often  take  a  hand  in 
these  barbaric  feuds." 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  7 

"  I  believe  while  I  was  there,"  answers  Miss  An- 
struther,  "  I  heard  a  daughter  spoken  of.  Etheria, 
she  was  called — the  betrothed,  I  understand,  of  that 
mediaeval  young  cavalier  who  acted  as  bridesman  and 
made  that  awful  Smollet  speech  to  Marina.  Young 
Bernardo  Saliceti,  a  member  of  the  local  governing 
body,  ambitious  to  be  elected  to  represent  Corsica 
in  the  French  Chamber  of  Deputies." 

"  Humph,  a  young  Corsican  swell  betrothed  to  the 
daughter  of  the  man  killed  on  the  mountain.  Be 
sides,  I've  heard  the  dead  Musso  speak  of  a  half- 
brother,  Corsican  on  the  mother's  side — one  Corregio 
Cipriano  Danella.  De  Belloc  mentioned  him  as  we 
rode  down  the  mountain.  Corregio  lives  most  of  the 
time  in  southern  France,  but  has  the  damnable  ethics 
of  his  island,"  mutters  Burton,  then  he  suddenly 
checks  himself,  for  Edwin  Anstruther  is  bringing  his 
bride  up  the  companionway  to  the  deck. 

The  young  English  naval  officer  looks,  notwith 
standing  the  fatigues  and  excitement  of  his  recent 
adventure,  the  embodiment  of  strength,  happiness 
and  courage.  The  only  time  his  eyes  falter  is  when 
he  glances  at  the  delicate  loveliness  of  his  bride,  for 
Marina,  notwithstanding  her  resistant  youth,  shows 
signs  that  in  the  last  forty-eight  hours  she  has  en 
dured  more  agonies  than  come  to  the  average  woman 
in  a  lifetime. 

Yet  it  is  evident  the  gracefully  beautiful  creature 


8  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

is  making  a  persistent  effort  to  place  the  past  behind 
her.  Every  time  her  eye  lights  on  her  bridegroom, 
the  flush  of  happiness  transforms  the  bride's  face 
into  a  dream  of  passionate  loveliness.  Each  time  she 
touches  the  arm  of  Edwin  Anstruther,  Barnes  notes 
that  her  slight  fingers  cling  to  the  young  English 
man's  stout  muscles  as  if  to  be  certain  a  living  hus 
band  is  beside  her  and  she  is  not  bereft.  Still  there 
is  a  confidence  in  the  young  Corsican  lady's  bear 
ing  that  makes  the  American,  who  now  considers 
himself  as  her  physician,  more  hopeful  of  her  physi 
cal  strength. 

"  Ah,  Marseilles  is  ahead  of  us,  dear  Dr.  Barnes," 
she  says,  her  dark  eyes  lighting  up  in  their  enthu 
siastic  southern  way.  "  To-morrow,  Paris ;  the  next 
day,  London,  where,  Edwin  tells  me,  you  hope  to 
be  happy,  happy  as " 

"As  I  am,"  interjects  Anstruther.  "Enid  has 
promised  to  make  you  so,  hasn't  she,  my  boy?  And 
I'll  see  that  she  does  it.  No  delays  for  trousseau; 
minister  to  the  mast  and  sentence  executed  at  once 
on  that  young  lady  who  is  putting  her  head  over 
the  taffrail  to  hide  her  blushes,  which  she'll  pretend 
come  from  the  sea  air." 

"  Please  attend  to  Marina's  blushes,  Edwin ; 
they're  enough  for  any  man  to  take  care  of,"  laughs 
Miss  Anstruther. 

"  Yes,  and  take  Mrs.  Anstruther  in  to  breakfast," 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  9 

commands  Barnes,  deftly  giving  Marina  her  English 
name,  thinking  it  will  impress  upon  her  that  she  is 
no  more  a  Corsican. 

"  Breakfast ! "  says  Anstruther,  promptly,  and 
leads  his  bride  into  the  dining  salon. 

"  Though  I  am  not  married,  I  am  hungry  also," 
remarks  Enid,  suggestively. 

"  All  right,  step  in  quick,"  returns  Burton,  but 
pausing  at  the  cabin  door,  he  whispers :  "  Excuse 
me  a  moment.  I  see  an  old  friend  forward." 

"  What,  you  are  not  going  to  sit  by  my  side?  " 
pouts  his  fiancee. 

"  In  a  minute.  Order  my  breakfast  for  me. 
That's  something  you  will  have  to  do  very  often  in 
the  future,  dear  one."  Barnes  emphasises  his  request 
with  a  pleasant  squeeze  of  the  confiding  hand  that 
is  in  his. 

A  minute  later  he  is  standing  among  the  few 
third-class  passengers  in  the  extreme  bow  of  the 
boat,  and  addressing  an  old  Corsican,  who,  costumed 
in  his  best  broad-brim  sombrero  and  silver-buttoned 
coat,  is  seated  upon  a  hen-coop  and  economically 
eating  some  hard-boiled  eggs  and  roasted  chestnuts 
he  has  produced  from  his  pockets. 

"  You  don't  remember  me,  old  Mateo,"  remarks 
Barnes,  gazing  at  the  ancient  innkeeper  of  the 
-auberge  II  Pescatori. 

"  By  the  blessing  of  the  Saints,  I  do,  honoured  Si- 


10  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

gnore  Barnes,  of  New  York,"  replies  the  representa 
tive  of  old  Corsica,  his  eyes  lighting  up  with  a  lurid 
glow.  "  A  grand  duel  that  we  arranged  on  the 
beach  a  year  ago!  All  Ajaccio  has  been  out  to  see 
where  Antonio  died  and  Marina  took  the  oath  of  the 
vendetta.  It  helped  business  grandly.  Has  she 
killed  yet?"  The  old  man's  tone  is  moodily  eager. 

"  Not  yet,"  answers  Barnes,  sententiously. 

"  Per  Baccho,  I  saw  her  with  another  English 
officer  in  the  stern  a  few  minutes  since.  They  say 
she's  wedded  to  him.  Hasn't  found  the  man  who 
slew  her  brother,  but  given  her  beauty  to  another 
of  his  accursed  race.  'Tis  shame  on  Corsica ! " 
mutters  the  old  vendettaist,  disgustedly. 

"  I  believe  on  the  morning  of  that  duel,"  inter 
jects  Burton,  "  you  were  kind  enough,  Mateo,  to 
give  me  quite  a  little  history  of  the  vendetta  on  which 
you  seem  to  be  an  authority;  how  your  father,  a 
fisherman,  fell  in  one,  and  you  drowned  the  man  who 
killed  your  father." 

"  Ah,  that  memory  is  a  pleasant  one,  Signore.  I 
can  always  sleep  in  peace;  my  enemy  had  no  rela 
tives  or  descendants." 

"  But  where  there  are  relatives  and  descendants, 
the  feud  goes  on  ?  "  The  American  knocks  the  ashes 
from  his  cigar. 

"  Until  there  are  no  more  left,  of  course !  Corpo 
di  Diavolo,  even  to  all  who  bear  the  name  or  have  a 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  11 

drop  of  the  blood  in  their  veins  if  they  are  men  and 
Corsicans,"  answers  old  Mateo,  stoutly. 

"  Ah,  but  you  seem  quite  an  authority  on  the  sub 
ject.  But  are  these  feuds  ever  permitted  to  include 
women  as  victims  ?  "  asks  the  American,  his  eyes  very 
anxious. 

"  Maladetto,  why  not?  Women  produce  two- 
thirds  of  the  vendettas,"  mutters  the  old  man,  sar 
donically.  "  But  latterly,  in  these  degenerate  days, 
they  omit  all  but  wives ;  wives  often  share  the  fate 
of  their  husbands.  There  was  Teresa,  the  spouse 
of  Bonaldo,  her  throat  was  cut ;  and  the  young  and 
beautiful  Dona  Issea,  who  was  foolish  enough  to 
marry  Don  Gonsalo  of  Serra  and  bring  herself  into 
her  husband's  feud.  Her  fate  was  very  terrible;  she 
and  her  unborn  child " 

But  Mr.  Barnes  turns  moodily  away  from  this 
cruel  aspect  of  the  infernal  passion  of  unending  re 
venge.  As  he  enters  the  dining  salon  and  seats  him 
self  beside  the  ethereal  Miss  Enid,  he  mutters  to 
himself :  *4  By  Jove,  am  I  losing  my  nerve  ?  "  for  the 
thought  that  his  delicate  fiancee  may  possibly  be 
drawn  into  the  horrible  blood  feud  has  produced  a 
new  sensation  in  his  veins. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  the  Ajaccio  boat  is  pulled 
up  alongside  of  the  Quai  Joliette  in  Marseilles  and 
is  discharging  its  few  passengers  and  little  freight 
into  that  bustling  artery  of  modern  commerce  full 


12  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

of  moving  wagons,  shrieking  cabmen  and  the  other 
etceteras  of  a  great  commercial  port. 

A  big  steamer  of  the  Algerian  line  is  ahead  of 
them  and  a  troop  ship  taking  soldiers  on  board  for 
far-away  Tonkin  is  astern  of  them.  The  horrible 
scenes  on  the  mediaeval  island  he  had  left  but  yester 
day  seem  like  a  nightmare  to  the  American. 

The  ladies  are  below  getting  their  little  baggage 
together,  assisted  by  Edwin.  Barnes,  who  has  al 
ready  sent  a  waiter  on  shore  to  bring  up  a  carriage, 
with  an  after-breakfast  cigar  between  his  teeth,  is 
pacing  the  deck  of  the  vessel. 

A  bright,  smart  little  telegraph  boy  flies  up  the 
gangplank.  After  asking  directions  of  the  first 
officer,  he  steps  to  Mr.  Barnes  and  hands  him  a  blue 
envelope. 

"  A  wire  from  somebody  who  knew  I  was  on  this 
boat,"  thinks  the  American,  and  hastily  tearing  it 
open,  reads : 

**  BURTON  H.  BARNES, 

"Steamer  Constantine  arriving  Marseilles.    Ajaccio,  May 
26,  1883. 

"En  evant  double  quick!    The  devil  is  behind  you.    Look 
out  for  Saliceti.     Details  by  letter. 

"DE  B." 

From  instinct  Mr.  Barnes  touches  his  hip  pocket 
just  to  be  sure  his  revolver  is  there.  Then  he  paces 
the  deck  meditatively  for  a  moment,  cogitating: 
"  Something  must  be  happening  in  Corsica  for  that 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  1$ 

old  Algerine  campaigner  De  Belloc  to  send  such  a 
dispatch.  Best  the  ladies  don't  see  this,"  and  tears 
the  message  up,  tossing  the  pieces  overboard. 

As  he  does  so  Miss  Anstruther  is  beside  him,  a 
fluffy  white  parasol  over  her  head.  "  Blue  pieces 
of  paper,"  she  says  lightly.  "  A  telegram,  Burton. 
You  have  secured  our  places  on  the  Paris  train. 
You  think  of  everything." 

"  Yes,"  lies  her  fiance.  After  a  moment  he  re 
marks  :  "  By  the  bye,  Enid,  this  young  Saliceti  you 
spoke  of,  did  he  mention  England  in  his  Smollet 
speech?  " 

"  Why,  now  you  ask  me,  I  think  he  did.  Danella 
refused  to  translate,  explaining  that  it  was  a  Smollet- 
Fielding  bridal  speech.  You  know  the  kind  that — - 

that "  The  young  English  girl's  face  flushes 

very  red,  "  but  I  think  I  caught  the  word  England." 

"  This  Bernardo  is  not  a  poor  peasant,  I  pre 
sume." 

"  Oh,  quite  rich  for  a  local  Corsican  proprietor, 
I  believe.  Why  do  you  ask?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  it  takes  capital  to  indulge  in  a  long 
distance  vendetta,"  observes  Barnes,  gloomily. 

"  You  think  this  young  man "  Enid's  face 

has  grown  almost  frightened. 

"  I  don't  think  anything  about  it  at  present.  I 
only  think  we'll  get  on  to  London  as  soon  as  possi 
ble.  We  have  but  twenty  minutes  to  catch  the  train.. 


14  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Ah,  here's  Tompson  with  the  valises !  "  He  takes 
Miss  Anstruther's  maid,  an  English  girl  of  about 
twenty,  and  rather  helpless  in  a  French-speaking 
country,  puts  her  with  the  heavier  articles  of  their 
baggage  into  a  voiture  and  dispatches  her  to  the 
railroad  depot  at  once.  Returning  to  his  fiancee  on 
the  deck  of  the  boat,  he  says  impatiently :  "  Why 
doesn't  Edwin  bring  Marina  on  deck?  " 

This  is  answered  by  the  young  Corsican  bride 
herself.  "  My  husband,"  she  lingers  on  the  word 
radiantly,  "  will  be  along  in  a  minute.  He  is  cord 
ing  up  our  baggage,  sailor  fashion.  '  All  atauto,' 
I  think  Edwin  calls  it.  Is  it  all  ashore  now,  dear 
Mr.  Barnes,"  and  Marina  drapes  her  light  travelling 
robe  with  graceful  hand  about  her  pretty  feet. 

"  Yes,  as  quickly  as  possible.  Come,  Enid !  "  and 
the  American  leads  the  way. 

Never  has  Marina  looked  more  radiantly  beautiful 
than  she  does  as  Barnes  assists  the  ladies  down  the 
gangplank.  A  simple  yet  effective  travelling  frock 
drapes  the  lines  of  her  exquisite  figure.  Her  face 
beams  full  of  a  great  hope  on  the  Quai  Joliette.  The 
bustling  traffic  of  the  great  seaport  of  southern 
France  represents  the  modern  world,  into  which  she 
is  again  stepping.  It  seems  to  separate  the  bride 
from  the  mediaeval  barbarism  and  cruel  vengeance  of 
her  native  island — passions  that  had  so  often  dom 
inated  her  during  the  last  dread  year. 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  15 

To  Barnes  she  whispers :  "  I  only  look  forward 
now.  The  past  is  forgotten;  happiness  is  before 
me ! "  and  waves  a  delicately  gloved  hand  to  her 
husband,  who  springs  down  the  gangplank  carrying 
the  corded  articles.  To  him  she  cries :  "  Hurry, 
Edwin!  Twenty  minutes  to  catch  the  Paris  train." 

"  Then  I've  got  you  in  time !  "  shouts  a  voice  from 
the  quay  that  makes  Barnes  start  and  turn  about. 

Before  them  stands  Miss  Maud  Chartris,  her  high, 
bronzed  boots  more  bronzy  than  ever,  the  cardinal 
red  of  her  long,  silk  stockings  that  outline  her  legs 
from  knees  to  ankles  even  more  aggressively  gleam 
ing.  A  pert  little  sunshade  is  over  her  straw-hatted 
head,  which  is  adorned  by  two  long,  blonde  pigtails 
tied  with  blue  ribbons  which  she  flops  about  defi 
antly.  The  rest  of  her  between  knees  and  neck  is 
a  white  muslin  frock  and  pink  sash. 

"  Ma  said  I  was  to  catch  you,  Edwin,  at  the  boat 
if  you  came  on  it.  She  wants  you  at  her  hotel,  the 
Grand,  Rue  Noailles.  You're  to  look  after  that 
plumbing  job  in  her  house  in  London.  The  master 
plumber  is  robbing  her." 

"  Awfully  sorry  I  cannot  accommodate  your 
mother,  Maud,"  remarks  Anstruther.  The  carriage 
engaged  by  Barnes  is  standing  ready  for  them. 
"  We  steer  straight  to  the  depot.  I  thought  your 
mother  was  in  London  already." 

"  No,  we're  going  back  to  Nice.     Von  Billow  is 


16  MR.    BARNES,   AMERICAN 

there.  Between  us  all,  ma  means  to  marry  him. 
How  I  pity  the  German.  I'll  ride  up  with  you  and 
tell  you  all  about  it.  Hurry,  there's  my  new  nursery 
governess  trying  to  get  across  the  quay  to  catch  me. 
Gee,  that  hackman  nearly  ran  her  down — my, 
that  would  have  been  fine — no  lessons !  "  cries  the 
Chartris  girl,  whose  widowed  mother  sternly  re 
presses  the  unfortunate  Maud  from  growing  into 
young  ladyhood  and  absolutely  denies  her  birthdays 
till  she,  Lady  Chartris,  has  captured  another  hus 
band. 

Already  Enid  and  Marina  are  on  the  back  seat, 
Anstruther  steps  in;  Barnes  likewise. 

"  Room  for  one  more ! "  cries  Maud,  who  springs 
in  and  kisses  both  of  the  young  ladies  effusively. 

"  Now,"  she  says,  naively,  "  I'll  sit  on  Edwin's 
lap.  He's  my  cousin,  Mr.  Barnes,  and  I'm  a  child — 
so  it  won't  make  Marina  jealous.  Now  I'm  comfort 
able  !  "  then  babbles :  "  How  did  the  Corsican  wed 
ding  go  off?  Looks  as  if  it  was  a  success  by  the 
bride's  face.  The  only  one  who's  glum  here  is 
*  Burton  darling.'  Enid's  a  little  offish,  is  she?  Not 
that  old  La  Belle-Blackwood-borrow-it-from-Barnes 
affair?" 

Miss  Anstruther's  eyes  began  to  gleam  at  the 
mention  of  the  only  serious  fault  she  ever  has  had 
against  her  fiancee. 

"  That's  a  mistake ! "  rattles  on  the  semi-innocent 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  17 

Maud ;  "  Ma  says  when  you  get  a  man,  nail  him  and 
reform  him.  Wait  till  I  get  into  long  dresses, 
see  me  nail  'em  and  reform  'em,  eh,  6  Burton,  dar- 
ling?  '  " 

"  I  thought  your  mother  was  going  to  put  you  at 
a  strict  school  in  London?"  says  Barnes,  savagely. 

"  Well,  she  was,  but  Von  Billow  is  in  Nice  and  ma's 
made  up  her  mind  it's  her  last  chance  and  is  going 
there.  Gee,  if  ma  doesn't  get  married  soon  I'll  be 
in  socks  again  and  dresses  up  to  my  waist." 

"  No  birthdays  in  hailing  distance,  yet?  "  laughs 
Anstruther. 

"  Does  this  look  like  it?  "  Miss  Chartris  makes  an 
abortive  attempt  to  lengthen  her  short  skirts.  "  Bet 
ma  keeps  me  eleven,  till  she  gets  that  German." 

Already  the  carriage  having  rolled  up  the  Boule 
vard  des  Dames  and  passed  the  Arc  de  Triomphe 
has  turned  into  the  Rue  Bernard  du  Bois,  making 
for  the  big  railway  station,  out  of  which  nearly  all 
trains  leave  Marseilles  not  only  for  Paris,  but  every 
where  else. 

"  All  right,  you  give  my  compliments  to  your 
mother,  Maud,"  remarks  the  sailor,  trying  to  cut 
off  Maud's  effusions.  "  Tell  her  to  write  me  at  my 
London  address  and  I'll  hoist  her  plumber  at  the 
yard-arm." 

By  this  time  they  are  at  the  great  station.  Miss 
Chartris  skips  out  and  the  rest  follow  her  from  the 


18  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

carriage.  Trains  are  ready  to  leave  for  the  four 
quarters  of  the  globe;  the  platforms  are  filled  with 
hurrying  passengers.  Some  gaily  dressed  ladies 
are  being  hurried  to  the  rapide  that  has  just  rushed 
in  from  Paris  and  is  about  to  depart  for  the  Riviera, 
though  the  season  is  nearly  ended.  A  couple  of 
little  Scotch  boys  in  kilts  and  glengarries  are  being 
dragged  by  their  nurse  toward  this.  One  of  them 
makes  Maud  very  angry  by  crying :  "  Let  me  play 
wi'  tha  braw  lassie  wi'  thae  red  legs." 

It  is  hard  to  believe  a  mediaeval  vendetta  can  be 
inserted  on  such  a  scene.  Barnes,  glancing  at  his 
watch,  finds  they  have  ten  minutes  before  the  train 
departs :  he  says  cheerfully  but  hurriedly :  "  Look 
out  for  the  ladies,  Edwin ;  I'll  find  Tompson  and  the 
rest  of  the  baggage,"  and  goes  off  to  get  the  tickets 
and  make  the  necessary  arrangements. 

But  "  look  out  for  the  ladies,"  is  more  easily 
said  than  done. 

The  crowd  is  quite  large,  the  station  great  in 
extent.  Trains  are  departing  for  everywhere. 

Three  jabbering  porters  have  seized  their  hand 
baggage  and  are  carrying  it  in  sections  towards  dif 
ferent  trains  that  will  scatter  the  pieces  to  the  West 
and  the  Pyrennes,  to  the  East  and  Italy. 

Edwin  pursues  these;  then  Enid  gives  a  gasp. 
Another  porter,  calling:  "Aries,  Tarascon  and 
Avignon !  "  has  pounced  upon  her  special  handbag 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  19 

and  is  rushing  away  with  it.  Miss  Anstruther  flies 
after  him,  leaving  Maud  and  Marina  together. 

Five  minutes  later,  Barnes  returns  to  find  Edwin 
supporting  Marina,  whose  face  is  very  pale,  and 
whose  eyes  are  scarcely  conscious.  Were  it  not  for 
the  stout  arm  about  her,  she  would  fall  to  the  plat 
form  of  the  great  station,  under  the  feet  of  the 
hurrying  throng. 

Miss  Chartris  is  gazing  meditatively  at  her,  chew 
ing  the  blue-enameled  knob  of  her  parasol  and  fur 
tively  tucking  something  in  her  glove. 

"  What  the  deuce  has  happened  to  her? "  asks 
the  American. 

"  She  is  too  ill  to  speak,"  answers  the  young  hus 
band,  astounded.  "  What  am  I  to  do  ?  We  cannot 
take  her  on  the  train  in  this  shape.  She  is  absolutely 
unfit  to  travel.  She  has  nearly  fainted  again." 
For  Marina's  eyes,  seeing  Edwin,  close  again  in 
apparent  despair. 

"What  produced  it?"  demanded  Barnes.  "She 
was  the  picture  of  health  when  I  left  her." 

Here  Enid  runs  up  with  her  replevined  hand- 
satchel. 

"Do  you  know  how  this  occurred?"  asks  Edwin, 
eagerly. 

"  Not  so  much  as  you  do ! "  replies  Miss  An 
struther;  "Maud,  how  did  this  happen?"  She 
turns  suspicious  eyes  upon  Miss  Chartris,  who  cries 


20  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

nervously:  "What  are  you  jumping  on  me  for?  I 
was  only  keeping  Marina's  handbag  and  umbrella, 
and  Edwin's  canes  and  rug,  and  I  looked  round  and 
she'd  got  it  in  the  neck !  " 

"  Not  a  dagger?  "  shudders  JCnid.  But  a  hasty 
inspection  of  Marina's  white  throat  relieving  her, 
Miss  Anstruther  cries :  "  Maud,  how  dare  you  use 
such  ambiguous  Americanisms!  What  has  she 
got?  " 

"  How  do  I  know?  "  pouts  Maud,  aggressively. 
"  She  was  too  groggy  to  speak.  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  Edwin  grabbing  her,  she'd  have  conflumaxed 
upon  the  floor.  Perhaps  her  stays  are  too  tight,  like 
yours." 

Barnes's  fiancee  doesn't  reply  to  this  atrocious 
slander  upon  her  exquisite  waist,  but  plies  smelling 
salts  at  the  nostrils  of  the  bride  whom  Edwin  is 
supporting. 

"  It  can't  be  paralysis !  "  shudders  the  groom,  try 
ing  in  vain  to  revive  Marina. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  answers  Barnes,  -after  hasty  exam 
ination. 

"  Do  you  think  we  dare  put  her  on  the  train  ?  " 
queries  Edwin,  anxiously. 

"  As  a  friend,  I  would  say  we  must  get  her  away, 
but "  The  American  pauses. 

"Mercy!  You  have  some  news  from  Ajaccio?  " 
Enid  breaks  in,  trembling. 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  21 

"  No  more  news,  only  it  is  wise  to  be  moving  on. 
But,"  Burton  feels  the  fluttering  pulse  of  the  bride, 
"  but  as  a  doctor,  my  opinion  is  she  must  remain 
here  for  a  few  hours  at  least.  I'll  get  a  carriage. 
Here,  Tompson,"  he  says  to  the  maid  who  had  fol 
lowed  him  from  the  crowd  in  the  depot,  "  help  your 
mistress  with  the  grips !  " 

The  two  gentlemen  support  Marina  outside  the 
station,  and  Maud  following,  says :  "  Take  her  to 
the  Grand,  our  hotel.  Ma's  got  lovely  rooms  there." 

"  Yes,  it's  only  a  short  distance,"  remarks  Barnes, 
"  and  we  can  make  your  wife  comfortable  at  once." 

The  whole  party  soon  reach  the  Grand  Hotel  on 
the  Rue  Noailles.  Here  they  are  received  with  mixed 
exclamations  of  surprise  and  delight  and  then  con 
cern  by  Lady  Chartris.  "  Marina  was  well,  you  say, 
only  a  few  minutes  ago  and  fainted  at  the  railroad 
station.  What  produced  it?"  cries  the  English 
matron,  after  the  young  Corsican  lady  has  been 
taken  to  a  bedroom  and  a  well-recommended  physi 
cian  sent  for,  Enid  staying  by  the  patient  until  his 
arrival. 

Mr.  Barnes  doesn't  deem  it  wise  to  go  into  de 
tails  with  Lady  Chartris. 

"  You  had  better  descend  and  make  yourself  com 
fortable  in  the  cafe,  Edwin,"  he  suggests.  "  Young 
husbands  are  too  nervous  when  their  wives  are  sick." 

Taking  Anstruther  down  with  him  he  whispers: 


22  MR.    BARNES,   AMERICAN 

"  Besides,  did  you  notice  whenever  she  looked  at  you 
she  swooned  again.  Best  keep  away  until  you  learn 
the  true  reason  of  this  sudden  attack." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  heart  disease?  "  asks  Edwin, 
distractedly. 

"  Not  the  kind  you  mean.  I  can  tell  you  that 
your  bride  is  as  normally  healthy  as  any  woman  in 
the  world,"  answers  the  American.  "  It  was  some 
shock  to  the  brain  or  nervous  system,  I  think.  The 
question  is,  what  was  it?  " 

"  Can  it  have  been  anything  connected  with  that 
horrible  island?"  queries  Edwin,  anxiously. 

"  That  I'm  now  about  to  attempt  to  discover," 
observes  Burton. 

Meditating  as  to  what  the  blow  is,  Barnes  leaves 
the  young  English  officer  and  comes  upstairs,  to 
interview  the  only  witness  he  thinks  available — the 
adolescent  Maud.  As  he  reaches  Lady  Chartris's 
parlour,  that  lady's  door  is  slightly  open,  and  words 
issue  to  him  that  make  him  pause  outside  the 
entrance. 

"  Now,  Maud,"  says  Lady  Chartris,  sternly, 
"  what  caused  Mrs.  Anstruther  to  faint?  You  were 
alone  with  her." 

"Ma,  I  didn't  do  it!  Sure,  I  didn't!"  falters 
the  girl. 

"  The  truth,  or  I  shall  take  you  to  my  bedroom. 
You  know  what  will  happen  to  you  there,  if  you 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  23 

don't  tell  me  everything."  The  voice  of  the  mother 
suggests  awful  possibilities. 

"  Yes,  ma,  I  will ;  I'll  tell  you  every  blessed  thing 
— don't  look  at  me  that  way.  Why,  I  was  just 
walking  round  with  Marina  and  I  left  her  for  a 
minute  and  a  gentleman,  French  and  Italian  mixed, 
said:  'You  are  with  Madame  Anstruther?  '  He 
stumbled  over  the  name,  and  I  answered  proudly — 
Marina  looked  awfully  fetching — '  You  bet,  she's 
my  cousin  by  marriage.'  Then  he  said :  '  Give 
her  this,  with  my  regards,'  and  handed  me  a  note. 
Well,  I  gave  it  to  Marina  and  that  finished 
her." 

"Finished  her?" 

"  Yes,  she  kind  of  read  it  in  two  pieces.  First 
she  drew  up  and  looked  like — like  you  when  you 
think  you've  caught  me  in  something  awful — strong, 
savage  and  horrible.  And  when  she  read  the  second 
part,  then  she  looked  like  I  look  when  I'm  going  to 
catch  it." 

"  And  then?  "  Lady  Chartris's  voice  is  intense 
with  excited  curiosity. 

"Well,  then  Edwin  came  up  and  caught  her  just 
as  she  was  going  to  fall  on  the  floor  of  the  railroad 
station,  and  they  brought  her  here." 

"Is  that  everything?" 

"  You  bet !  Ain't  it  enough  ?  How  should  I  know 
anything  more?  " 


24  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Oh !  "  exclaims  Lady  Chartris,  in  extreme  dis 
appointment.  A  moment  after  she  adds,  suavely: 
"  You  will  have  no  lessons  to-day,  Maud." 

"  Bully !  "  ejaculates  her  offspring  in  wild  delight ; 
but  sets  up  a  stifled  howl  as  her  mother  continues: 
"  You  can  spend  the  day  in  bed." 

"  For  what?  Handing  Marina  a  paper  that  any 
body  would  give  her?  " 

"  For  running  away  from  your  new  governess  on 
the  Quai  Joliette.  Miss  Marston  reported  it.  To 
bed  at  once !  " 

The  face  of  the  eavesdropping  Barnes  becomes 
gloomy.  Here  is  a  witness  whose  evidence  he  wants 
and  isn't  going  to  get.  He  promptly  enters  Lady 
Chartris's  parlour  and  says :  "  Hi,  Maudie,  run 
downstairs  and  I'll  follow  you  and  we'll  buy  some 
marrons  glaces  together." 

Maud  is  half-way  down  the  first  flight  before  the 
last  of  Barnes's  sentence  is  out  of  his  mouth. 

"  How  dare  you  send  my  child  away  when  I  had 
ordered  her  to  bed  ?  "  remarks  her  mother,  angrily. 

"  Bed?  Oh,  Maud  is  too  young  to  be  sent  to 
bed." 

"  You  think  she  is  too  young?  "  Lady  Chartris's 
tone  is  appeased. 

"  Why,  certainly,  Von  Billow  said  the  same.  A 
child  of  her  tender  age — is  it  nine  or  ten? — might 
imagine  ghosts  and  goblins !  " 


IN    THE    MARSEILLES    DEPOT  25 

"  So  Von  Billow  said  that !  Yes,  Maud  is  very 
young,  but  don't  give  her  too  many  bonbons,"  re 
marks  the  widow,  her  face  modified,  as  Barnes  steps 
down  the  stairs. 

Two  minutes  after,  Miss  Chartris,  eating  bonbons 
in  the  seclusion  of  a  magnificent  confectioner's  shop 
on  the  Cours  Belzunce,  remarks,  suspiciously  r 
"  What  are  you  doing  all  this  for,  Mr.  Barnes  of 
New  York?" 

"  I've  got  a  little  information  to  get  from  you, 
Maud,"  says  the  American.  "  What  kind  of  a  look 
ing  man  was  he  who  gave  you  the  communication 
for  Mrs.  Anstruther?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  he "  Suddenly  the  girl's  blue 

eyes  grow  big  with  astonishment,  she  gulps,  a  mar- 
ron  going  down  her  throat  whole :  "  How  did  you 
guess?  Oh,  you  know  everything,  you  do,  Mr. 
Barnes  of  New  York.  But  I'll  tell  you  a  little, 
you've  been  so  nice  about  the  glaces.  He  was  an 
Italian  or  foreigner  or  something  of  that  kind  with 
the  manners  of  a  waiter  or  a  gentleman.  He  had  a 
long,  thin  scar  over  his  left  eye-brow.  I  noticed 
that  because  his  sleeve  buttons  had  the  same  crest 
as  Musso  Danella's — by  the  bye,  how's  dear 
Musso?" 

"  The  deuce!  Do  you  think  Marina  knew  him?  " 
The  American's  voice  is  hoarse  with  concern. 

"How  can  I  tell?     Bridie  didn't  see  him.     I  sim- 


26  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

ply  gave  her  the  note.  It  knocked  her  stupid,  and 
she  almost  fainted." 

Then  Maud's  eyes  opened  bigger  than  ever,  for 
Mr.  Barnes  says  sternly :  "  Give  me  that  note  !  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  I've  got  it? "  Maud 
mutters,  affrighted. 

"  Give  me  the  note  you  picked  up  from  the  floor 
of  the  depot  when  it  fell  from  Marina's  fainting 
hand,  and  tucked  in  that  left  glove  of  yours." 

"  Not  unless  you  buy  'em  for  two  boxes  of  mar- 
rons  glaces!  "  asserts  the  infant,  commercially. 

"  Done !  "  says  the  American,  sharply. 

Miss  Chartris  unbuttons  her  left  glove  and  care 
fully  extracts  from  it  and  passes  him  three  pieces 
of  paper. 

"  Now  pay  up !  "  she  exclaims. 

But  after  matching  the  three  fragments  of  a 
letter  and  glancing  hastily  over  them  the  face  of 
the  gentleman  in  front  of  her  has  grown  so  dis 
tressed  and  horrified  that  the  candy  she  is  eating 
slips  from  Maud's  fingers  and  falls  upon  the  floor  of 
the  shop. 


CHAPTER    II 


"  You  have  read  this  ?  "  Barnes  is  speaking  while 
he  is  deciphering  as  well  as  he  can  the  mutilated 
note. 

"  How  could  I — in  the  carriage  with  you  and 
after  that  under  Mama's  awful  eyes  ?  " 

"  Where's  the  fourth — the  other  piece?  "  asked 
Burton,  savagely. 

"  I — I  couldn't  get  the  other — the  people  were 
stamping  about  so,"  stammers  Maud.  "  She  was 
tearing  it  up  when  she  keeled  over." 

"  Did  Marina  say  anything  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  sorter  gasped :  '  Don't  tell  him ! ' 
Then  Edwin  grabbed  her.  But  what's  in  it?  "  asks 
Maud,  as  Barnes  strives  again  to  gain  the  full  mean 
ing  of  the  three-quarter  epistle. 

"  Nothing  that  would  interest  a  little  girl." 

"  But  it  would  interest  ma.  Let  me  tell  ma. 
Then  she'll  let  up  on  me." 

"  Not  a  word  to  anyone ! "  says  Burton,  sternly. 

"  Two  more  boxes  of  marrons  glaces." 

"  Here,  buy  them ! "  The  American  passed  to 
27 


28  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Maud's  eagerly  outstretched  hand  a  couple  of 
twenty-franc  gold  pieces.  "  But "  Barnes's  de 
meanour  has  become  terrifying,  "  if  you  blab  of  this 
to  Edwin  Anstruther,  I'll  tell  your  mother  that  you 
kept  this  note  from  her." 

"  Great  Jones !  "  mutters  Maud,  shivering.  Then 
she  implores :  "  But  if  I  keep  dark,  you'll  beg  me 
off  for  running  away  with  you?  " 

"  Yes,  avoid  your  mother's  eyes  for  two  hours 
and  I'll  probably  put  something  in  Lady  Chartris's 
head  that  will  make  her  so  happy  she'll  think  you 
the  nicest  little  chick  out  of  its  shell !  " 

The  American  courteously  leads  the  Chartris  in 
fant  to  her  hotel,  but  even  as  he  bids  the  child  adieu 
at  the  door,  the  clerk  coming  out,  says :  "  Mon 
sieur  Barnes,  a  note  for  you  at  the  office." 

Burton  has  been  compelled  to  register  himself  and 
party.  He  steps  in,  and  tearing  open  an  envelope 
addressed  in  an  unknown  hand,  reads  what,  stable- 
minded  as  he  is,  gives  him  a  shock.  Though  for  a 
second  his  blood  runs  rapidly  in  his  veins,  he  checks 
it  and  becomes  full  of  that  icy,  deadly,  calm  rage 
which  comes  to  men  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  when 
their  women  are  assailed. 

"  This  compels  me  to  tell  Edwin.  I  must  post 
him  a  little  bit,"  he  thinks  rapidly,  and  acting  with 
equal  promptness,  steps  into  the  cafe.  Not  finding 
Anstruther  there,  Barnes  walks  up  the  stairs. 


AN    UNPLEASANT    DOCUMENT  29 

At  the  door  of  his  wife's  chamber,  the  English 
naval  officer  is  pacing  the  corridor. 

"  Marina  is  much  better.  She  has  recovered  her 
senses,"  says  Edwin,  elatedly.  "  But  Enid  believes 
it  best  for  me  not  to  see  her  immediately,  and  the 
French  physician  declares  it  is  madness  at  present  to 
think  of  the  fatigue  of  a  long  railway  journey  for 
my  wife."  The  young  husband  lingers  lovingly  on 
the  term. 

"I  had  feared  that,"  remarks  Barnes.  "The 
important  thing  is  now  to  guard  her." 

"  Guard  her?  " 

"  Yes.  It  is  now  imperative  that  I  tell  you,  An- 
struther,  something  I  would  have  kept  from  you." 

Two  minutes'  hurried  conversation  and  the  Eng 
lish  sailor  says  in  quarter-deck  directness :  "  I  under 
stand.  No  one  goes  into  that  door  except  the  doctor 
and  Enid.  If  anyone  prowls  around  here — lend  me 
your  revolver,  Barnes.  You  always  carry  one." 

"  Yes,  and  you  must  from  now  on  do  the  same," 
answers  the  American  as  he  passes  the  weapon  to 
the  Englishman.  He  steps  to  his  own  room,  and 
gets  another  pistol  from  his  valise.  Testing  it  care 
fully  as  regards  cylinder  and  lock,  the  celebrated 
pistol-shot  mutters  grimly :  "  If  I  have  to  shoot,  it 
will  be  to  kill.  Now,  this  makes  it  necessary  to  see 
Elijah  Emory  at  once.  Lucky  I  cabled  him." 

Making   his    way   hurriedly    to   the   busy    Cours 


SO  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Belzunce,  Barnes  steps  into  the  Hotel  des  Deux- 
Mondes,  a  well-known  house  of  commercial  entertain 
ment.  A  moment's  inquiry  of  the  polite  clerk  and 
he  steps  into  the  correspondence  room  of  the  hotel. 
After  looking  about  a  moment,  he  places  his  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  a  man  engaged  in  writing. 

"  I  saw  you  come  in  the  door,  Barnes ! "  says  the 
man,  continuing  his  labour.  "  Glad  to  behold  you. 
Your  wire  from  Ajaccio  came  last  night.  I've  got 
all  the  information  for  you.  I  missed  you  at  the 
gare,  and  reckoned  you'd  gone  on  to  Paris.  Here's 
what  you  wanted,  finished."  He  passes  him  the 
paper. 

"  Thank  you ! "  Barnes  looks  it  over  carefully. 
"  By  your  report  here,  you  seem  to  know  everything 
about  this  country." 

"  Well,  everything  a  foreigner  can.  I've  repre 
sented  the  Pinkertons  in  Southern  France  nigh  on 
to  eight  years." 

"  Yes,  you  did  some  very  nice  work  last  season 
for  my  sister,  Lady  Morington,  about  those  stolen 
jewels  at  Nice.  That  reminded  me  of  you.  But 
I've  got  something  for  you  to  recapture  more  im 
portant  than  stolen  jewels." 

"  What's  that  ?"  sharply  asks  the  American  de 
tective,  who  has  become  a  European  one. 

"  Stolen  happiness." 

"  Holy  Moses,  if  I  could  gather  all  that  up  and 


AN    UNPLEASANT    DOCUMENT  31 

restore  it  to  people,  I  could  retire  from  biz,"  laughs 
Mr.  Elijah  Reuben  Emory,  who  is  a  man  of  about 
thirty-eight  years,  of  piercing  grey  eyes,  and  off 
hand,  slap-dash  manner  which  was  once  extremely 
American,  but  has  gradually  been  changed  by  a 
Continental  life  to  a  bad  imitation  of  that  of  a  deni 
zen  of  Southern  Europe. 

Barnes  glances  carefully  about  the  room — which 
is  deserted — the  day  having,  as  is  quite  usual  at  this 
season  in  Marseilles,  grown  intensely  hot  and  un 
comfortable. 

"  There's  no  living  thing  here  except  flies,"  re 
marks  Emory.  "  I  took  care  of  that  before  I  began 
to  write  my  confidential  report  for  you.  I'll  keep 
my  eye  on  the  door,  so  you  can  spurt  it  out  freely." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  over  in  Corsica?  "  whispers 
his  client. 

"Never!"  says  the  detective.  "And  I  don't 
hanker  after  going  there.  If  a  Corsican  commits  a 
crime  and  gets  to  his  blessed  island,  he  can  stay  there 
— for  me.  To  arrest  him  the  gendarmes  might  have 
to  kill  his  whole  tribe ;  they  hang  together  like  a  flock 
of  wild  hogs." 

"  Yes,  too  much.  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  I  want 
you  to  do  for  me,  Emory.  I  want  you  to  act  as  a 
buffer." 

"A  buffer  agin  what?" 

"  Against  the  intangible.    I  haven't  settled  exactly 


32  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

against  whom,  but  listen  to  my  story.  It  won't  take 
over  half  an  hour.  Then  you'll  know  how  to  act." 

Rapidly,  but  under  his  breath,  Barnes  tells  the 
American  detective  of  the  extraordinary,  uncalled 
for  and  mistaken  Corsican  blood  feud  that  he  fears 
instead  of  having  been  satisfied  two  nights  before  by 
the  death  of  two  men,  has  been  increased  and  ex 
tended. 

During  the  first  of  his  story,  Emory  beams  upon 
him  with  the  genial  smile  of  a  man  expecting  ducats. 
During  the  latter  part  of  it,  his  face  grows  worried, 
several  times  he  nervously  wipes  the  perspiration 
from  his  brow,  and  squirms  all  over  his  seat  uneasily. 
At  the  close  he  shudders :  "  Gee  whiz,  you  want  me 
to  put  my  finger  in  a  regular  Corsican  vendetta? 
Not  on  yer  blooming  life!  Not  for  all  the  rhino  in 
Baring  Brothers'.  I  tackled  a  West  Virginia  feud 
once  and,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  came  out  alive;  but 
from  this  dark  age  Corsican  article,  which  goes  into 
fourth  and  fifth  cousins — excuse  me!  I've  heard  of 
a  fellow  who  barricaded  himself  in  a  house  for  twenty 
years,  and  when  he  thought  every  blarsted  being  but 
himself  in  the  vendetta  was  coffined,  came  out  to  take 
a  sun-bath,  and — died  in  ten  seconds.  A  foster- 
cousin,  or  something  of  that  kind  he  had  clean  for 
gotten,  was  laying  for  him.  Besides,  women  some 
times  take  a  hand  in  these  affairs  and  play  the  very 
devil." 


AN    UNPLEASANT    DOCUMENT  33 

"  Yes,  it's  because  one  unfortunate  lady  is  already 
in  this  affair  and  another  may  be  drawn  into  it  I 
speak  to  you,"  implores  Barnes.  "  I  know  money 
won't  tempt  you,  Emory,  but  a  countrywoman,  or 
rather  one  who  will  be  a  countrywoman — 

"  Oh,  you  mean  the  future  Mrs.  Barnes  of  New 
York.  Well,  for  her  sake,  hang  me  if  I  don't  go 
you ! "  The  Yankee  detective  extends  his  hand. 
"  But  it  ain't  the  money,  though,  of  course,  that'll 
be  liberal." 

"  Thank  you ! "  Barnes  gives  Emory  a  grateful 
grip,  adding,  earnestly :  "  Now,  let's  look  over  this 
affair." 

But  the  detective  interrupts :  "  Why  don't  you 
get  a  move  on  and  fly  from  the  snaky,  cussed  thing? 
As  soon  as  ye're  married,  take  yer  wife  under  yer 
arm  and  slope  to  America.  Anstruther  can  sneak 
his  bride  to  England,  and " 

"  That  won't  end  it,"  answers  Burton.  "  There's 
money  enough  in  the  pockets  of  one  or  two  of  these 
people  to  carry  the  feud  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
A  few  moments  ago  I  told  you  about  Edwin's  bride 
following  the  man  she  thought  had  killed  her  brother 
to-  Egypt.  Now,  when  I  walk  down  Broadway  on  a 
pleasant  evening  from  the  theatre,  I'm  not  going  to 
be  looking  over  my  shoulder  for  a  dagger  in  my 
back.  I  don't  think  Anstruther  would  be  content 
to  live  with  sudden  death  hanging  over  him  and  his 


34  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

wife  among  the  green  lanes  of  England.  There's 
only  one  way  to  settle  this  affair." 

"How's   that?" 

"  Squelch  it ! "  says  Barnes,  savagely,  "  by  kill 
ing  those  who  would  murder  me  and  my  kin." 

"  Gee  whiz,  the  French  Government?  " 

"  The  French  Government  won't  prevent  my  de 
fending  myself.  In  Corsica  itself  France  has  prac 
tically  never  interfered  in  vendettas.  Even  bandits 
in  general  have  been  too  much  for  the  local  gen 
darmes — there  are  two  or  three  wandering  around 
Monte  del  Oro,  near  Bocognano,  now.  Here  are 
the  documents  and  now  we'll  meet  this  matter  per 
sonally  and  practically.  As  I  wired,  you  have  ob 
tained  as  far  as  you  can,  a  list  of  all  the  relatives 
of  Musso  Danella."  Barnes  looks  over  the  paper 
Emory  has  given  him  and  observes :  "  All,  except 
Corregio  Cipriano  Danella,  Mus&o's  half  brother, 
are  practically  French." 

"  Yes,  that  I  reckon  puts  them  out  of  this  biz," 
says  Emory.  "  Except  there's  a  cousin — a  kind  of 
knock-about  fellow,  Enrico,  who's  Corsican  also — I 
didn't  get  him  till  the  last.  You'll  find  his  name  at 
the  bottom  of  the  page." 

"Where  is  he?"  asks  Barnes. 

"  Oh,  Enrico's  bumming  about  the  Riviera  some 
place,  I  reckon.  They  say  he's  always  near  a  gam 
ing  table  when  he's  got  any  money  in  his  pocket. 


AN    UNPLEASANT    DOCUMENT  35 

When  he  hasn't,  Enrico  don't  care  what  he  does  to 
get  more,"  answers  the  detective. 

"  But,  from  your  report,  Corregio,  the  brother, 
is  now  in  Marseilles.  We'll  take  this  Corregio  first. 
He  has  a  country  estate  near  Serra  in  the  island  and 
spends  the  balance  of  his  time  chiefly  in  Southern 
France;  is  intensely  Corsican,"  returns  Barnes. 
Taking  from  his  pocketbook  the  fragments  of  the 
note  Maud  had  given  him — the  one  that  had  pro 
duced  Marina's  nervous  stroke — he  places  them  be 
fore  the  detective,  and  asks :  "  Is  this  Corregio 
Danella's  handwriting?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,  but  I'll  find  out  for  you,"  answers 
Elijah,  then  his  eyes  begin  to  roll,  as  he  mutters: 
"Whew!  judging  from  the  part  of  it  I  can  read, 
that's  a  nasty  document." 

"  Yes,  though  I  don't  think  we've  got  the  worst  of 
it,  it  is  as  crafty  as  it  is  cruel.  It  was  given  to 
the  bride  not  entirely  recovered  from  the  agitation 
of  that  horrible  wedding  night  to  so  shock  her  deli 
cate  and  already  over-taxed  nerves  that  we  cannot 
move  away  from  here.  Some  devil  in  Marseilles  is 
trying  to  hold  us  here  till  these  bloodhounds  arrive 
from  Corsica  and  have  time  to  act.  Here's  another 
note  in  the  same  handwriting  that  puts  me  in," 
remarks  Burton,  moodily.  "  I  received  it  at  my 
hotel  half  an  hour  ago.  It's  the  Corsican  custom 
to  give  a  delicate  hint  to  the  doomed."  He  reads : 


36  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  '  Have  a  care  of  yourself !  This  is  thy  warn 
ing.  Remember  death  is  on  you  and  your  spouse 
and  your  offspring,  born  and  unborn.'  ' 

"  Pleasant  reading  for  a  man  with  his  wedding 
day  just  ahead  of  him,"  snarls  the  New  Yorker. 
"  That's  what  makes  me  as  vindictive  as  they 
are." 

"  Do  you  think  with  this  in  your  hand."  whispers 
Emory,  impressively,  "  you  should  have  a  wedding 
day.  I've  heard  such  monstrous  reports  of  their 
infernal  jambories  of  blood  from  Perrier,  the  French 
detective,  who  went  over  there  once " 

"  Not  until  this  is  finished,"  interjects  Burton, 
with  a  moan  of  disappointment. 

The  detective's  comment  makes  even  Barnes's  regu 
lar  pulse  beat  slower. 

"  Well,  what  are  your  plans  to  meet  this  ?  "  asks 
the  American  criminologist. 

"  My  plans  are  very  simple,"  says  Barnes,  tersely. 
"  I'm  going  to  get  our  women  in  a  safe  place  and 

then THEN  THE  HUNTED  BECOMES  THE  HUNTER  !  " 

"Great  tarantulas!"  mutters  Elijah,  admiringly. 
"  But  how  are  ye  to  get  the  women  safe?  Some 
one  may  be  potting  'em  while  you're  rounding  up 
the  others!  How  are  ye  going  to  fix  that?" 

The  American's  plan,  as  he  whispers  it  to  Emory, 
is  so  adroit,  that  the  detective  emits  a  triumphant 
whistle  and  says:  "  Gee  whiz,  just  the  idea!  " 


AN    UNPLEASANT    DOCUMENT  37 

"  Everything  must  be  ready  for  to-night,"  directs 
Barnes.  "  No  other  Corsican  steamer  than  the  one 
on  which  we  arrived  will  come  to-day.  By  to-mor 
row  I  hope  to  have  the  ladies  reasonably  beyond 
pursuit." 

"  All  right.     I  think  I  can  fix  it  for  you." 

"  Meantime,"  says  Barnes,  "  see  if  you  can  find 
what  cables  bearing  on  this  matter  have  been  re 
ceived  from  Ajaccio  and  to  whom  addressed.  For 
the  note  to  Marina  and  my  devilish  warning  show 
that  someone  has  heard  of  the  bridal  night  tragedy 
from  Corsica." 

"That  will  be  difficult!" 

"  Not  if  you  give  the  telegraph  clerks  enough 
money." 

"  Yes,  most  anything  can  be  done  the  way  you 
spend  money,  Mr.  Barnes."  This  last  issues  from 
Emory's  smiling  lips  as  the  American  is  writing  a 
check.  "  I'll  report  progress  to  you  not  later  than 
1  p.  M.  ;  that'll  give  you  time  for  your  arrange 
ments." 

Coming  from  this  to  the  Grand  Hotel,  Barnes 
shortly  strolls  into  Lady  Chartris's  parlour  and  has 
an  interview  with  that  matron  which  places  her  in 
the  Seventh  Heaven  of  delight. 

"You  think  of  going  to  Nice?"  he  suggests;  he 
would  have  proposed  some  little  Italian  watering 
place,  but  knows  that  the  widow  will  only  consider 


38  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

the  spot  where  Van  Billow,  the  young  German  diplo 
matist,  is  located. 

"  Yes,  I've  concluded  to  remain  there  a  few  weeks 
until  the  season  absolutely  ends,"  responds  Lady 
Chartris,  "  only  the  good  hotels  are  so  cruelly 
expensive." 

"  Well,  there  are  some  lovely  and  retired  villas 
on  the*  little  Bay  of  Villefranche,  a  twenty  minutes' 
carriage  drive  from  the  Promenade  des  Anglais. 
Supposing  you  engage  one?" 

"  Do  you  think  I'm  a  Croesus ! "  screams  the 
widow  in  horror.  "  Do  you  want  to  ruin  me  ?  Do 
you  suppose  I  have  your  pocketbook,  Mr.  Barnes 
of  New  York?" 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  want  you  to  suppose, 
my  dear  Lady  Chartris.  I'll  pay  for  the  villa ;  you 
occupy  it.  In  about  a  week  from  now,  Mrs.  An- 
struther  and  probably  Enid  will  be  your  guests; 
perhaps  Edwin  and  I  also  for  a  little  while.  But 
you  are  to  say  nothing  about  that.  You'll  keep 
Tompson,  Enid's  maid,  «and  take  her  on  with  you. 
The  villa  is  to  be  rented  by  you  and  entirely  in  your 
name." 

"And  you  pay  the  running  expenses?" 

"  With  pleasure." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Barnes,  how  magnificently  gen 
erous." 

"  Don't  leave  here  earlier  than  the  day  after  to- 


AN    UNPLEASANT    DOCUMENT  39 

morrow.  In  fact,  that  is  the  day  you  must  leave, 
but  make  your  arrangements  quickly  after  you 
reach  Nice.  You'll  have  no  trouble  in  finding  an 
unoccupied  villa  at  Villef ranche ;  it's  so  near  the  end 
of  the  season.  Be  sure  its  grounds  run  to  the  water 
and  have  a  landing  place." 

"  Why,  certainly,  it  will  suit  me  exactly.  You 
say  Von  Billow  is  at  the  Hotel  des  Anglais  ?  "  Ex 
cited  rapture  is  in  Lady  Chartris's  voice. 

"  Yes,  from  the  German  attache's  conversation 
with  me  in  Monte  Carlo,  I  imagine  that  he  expected 
you  would  be  there." 

"  Oh,  what  an  insinuation,  dear  Mr.  Barnes." 
The  widow's  face  is  flushed,  her  eyes  modestly  droop 
ing.  Then  she  suddenly  exclaims :  "  Ah,  you  are 
delayed  in  getting  to  London.  You  expect  to 
marry  dear  Enid  from  the  villa.  Maud  could  be 
the  maid  of  honour,  couldn't  she?" 

Barnes  starts  horrified  at  the  suggestion.  "  You 
will  say  nothing  of  our  going  to  Nice  to  anyone — 
especially  your  child,"  he  remarks,  commandingly, 
tempering  his  words,  however,  by  adding :  "  Maud  is 
too  young  to  keep  a  secret." 

"  Yes,  childish  tongues  will  babble,"  smiles  the 
widow  as  Burton  goes  moodily  away. 

Mr.  Barnes's  features  are  still  very  solemn,  as 
early  in  the  afternoon,  after  another  interview  with 
Emory,  he  says  to  Enid,  who  is  in  consultation  with 


40  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

him :      "  You   think   Marina   is   well   enough   to   be 
conveyed  in  a  carriage  a  mile  or  two  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly,  she  is  out  of  bed  now.  Don't 
fear  for  her  courage  as  regards  herself,  Burton. 
It  is  my  brother  the  dear  girl  is  alarmed  for." 

"  I  knew  that ;  I've  seen  her  indomitable  spirit  too 
often,"  returns  Barnes,  "  so  please  get  Edwin  here 
and  I'll  arrange  what  we're  all  to  do,  and  then  we'll 
set  about  doing  it." 

"  Edwin  never  leaves  the  door  of  her  chamber 
now,"  whispers  Enid. 

"  Quite  right,  but  we  can  from  here  keep  our 
eyes  on  the  passage,  and  I've  got  to  talk  to  you 
both." 

In  about  thirty  seconds,  the  American  is  saying 
words  to  both  his  fiancee  and  her  brother  that  make 
the  girl's  face  extremely  agitated,  and  Edwin's  look 
like  the  day  he  gained  the  Victoria  cross. 

"  This  morning,"  remarks  the  American,  under 
his  breath,  "  I  had  hoped,  with  Edwin's  aid,  to  get 
you,  Enid  and  Marina  to  England,  where  three  or 
four  London  bulldog  detectives  and  the  fear  of  the 
British  hangman  would  have  probably  kept  Mrs. 
Anstruther  safely  from  murderous  pursuit  until  I 
had  settled  the  affair.  But  now  this  devilish  letter 
has  given  her  such  a  shock  that  we  dare  not  im 
mediately  subject  her  to  the  fatigue  of  the  long  rail 
way  journey  to  London." 


AN    UNPLEASANT    DOCUMENT  41 

As  he  shows  it  to  them  and  they  try  to  decipher 
it,  Barnes  hastily  explains  how  he  had  purchased 
the  mutilated  letter  from  Maud  Chartris  with 
marrons  glaces. 

"  And  that  awful  child  concealed  it  from  us ! " 
cries  Enid.  "  Her  mother  should  be  told  immedi 
ately." 

"  What,  and  have  Lady  Chartris  rush  tremblingly 
back  to  London  when,  without  danger  to  herself, 
she  can  do  us  a  grand  turn  in  Nice." 

"  In  Nice?     How?  "    Enid  asks,  astonished. 

"  Tell  you  in  a  minute,"  replies  her  fiance ;  for 
Edwin,  after  puzzling  over  the  torn  letter,  suddenly 
mutters :  "  I — I  can't  exactly  understand  this, 
Barnes." 

"  Neither  do  I.  The  fourth  quarter  probably 
contains  the  infernal  portion  that  caused  your  bride's 
alarm  for  you,  for  her  fears  I  know  are  not  so  much 
for  herself,  as  for  you.  As  it  is,  here's  enough  for 
us  to  be  sure  that  it  was  given  to  Marina  in  the 
hope  that  after  the  ineffable  despair  and  cruel  men 
tal  torture  of  her  bridal  night,  it  would  so  smite 
her  high-strung  nerves  that  they  would  break  down 
sufficiently  to  detain  us  here  so  a  few  Corsican  thugs 
could  come  over  and — cut  our  throats.  That's 
about  the  plain  English  of  it.  Now  I,  with  your 
assistance,  Edwin,  am  going  first,  to  make  Enid 
and  Marina  safe." 


42  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"How?"  demands  the  English  girl,  whose  face 
has  grown  pallid,  though  two  hectic  spots  blaze  upon 
her  delicate  cheeks  and  her  blue  eyes  scintillate  with 
the  quiet  courage  of  the  blood  that  had  come  down 
to  her  from  Hastings  and  Crecy  and  Agincourt. 

"  By  Lady  Chartris.  She's  going  to  take  a  se 
cluded,  water-washed  villa  at  Villefranche  in  her 
own  name.  House  rentals  have  to  be  reported  to 
the  municipal  officials.  With  the  name  of  Lady 
Chartris  attached  to  it,  no  one  will  guess  that  we 
will  occupy  it !  " 

"  But  Prunella  Chartris  would  fly  from  a  ven 
detta  as  she  would  from  the  small-pox,"  says  Edwin. 

"  Quicker !  "  cries  Enid. 

"  Quite  right,  but  Prunella  Chartris  shan't  hear 
of  a  vendetta.  We'll  turn  up  at  Villefranche,  Ed 
win,  in  about  four  days,  leave  the  ladies  there,  amply 
guarded,  and  then  you  and  I,  my  jolly  seadog,  will 
turn  our  attention  to  our  Corsican  friends.  We 
will  be  footloose,  and  can  do  the  hunting  and  killing, 
if  necessary,  and  settle  the  affair  in  some  way  defi 
nitely  and  forever."  Barnes's  manner  is  lighter 
than  his  heart. 

"  You'll  find  me  with  you,"  answers  the  English 
Lieutenant,  his  eyes  blazing  as  if  he  were  on  the 
bridge  of  his  ship  in  action.  "  This  is  the  second 
time,  because  she  loved  me,  that  my  bride  has  been 
driven  to  despair.  But — "  here  his  tone  becomes 


AN    UNPLEASANT    DOCUMENT  43 

very  anxious — "  how  do  you  think  we  can  make  our 
dear  ones  safe?  How  do  you  expect  to  get  Enid 
and  Marina  from  Marseilles  unnoticed  by  the  people 
that  are  already  hunting  us,  to  the  villa  near  Nice?  " 

"  What  do  wild  animals  do  when  they  are  hunted? 
Take  to  the  water!"  remarks  Burton.  "That 
leaves  no  trail.  Do  you  think,  Anstruther,  that 
you  can  navigate  a  yacht?  " 

"  Do  you  think  that  you  can  shoot  a  pistol 
straight?  "  growls  the  British  naval  officer. 

"  Very  well.  A  yacht  will  be  waiting  for  us,  en 
gaged  by  Emory.  It  wasn't  difficult  at  this  season 
of  the  year;  a  good  many  are  going  out  of  commis 
sion  in  these  waters.  There  will  be  nothing  but 
English  seamen  on  board,  not  over  many  of  them. 
She  is  a  schooner,  I  believe;  reasonably  well  found, 
reasonably  fast,  and  with  cabin  accommodations  for 
our  limited  party.  We'll  put  the  girls  on  board  to 
night.  We're  both  armed  and  our  party  will  not  be 
noticed  driving  on  the  Prado,  where  everybody 
drives.  In  a  little  bay,  as  I  have  arranged  it,  off 
the  Corniche  Road,  near  the  Bains  du  Roucas  Blanc, 
a  boat  will  be  waiting.  There  we'll  put  the  ladies  on 
board  and  sail  away.  Then  who'll  be  able  to  tell 
where  we  go  to  ?  " 

"  With  a  quadrant  and  compass  on  board,  why 
shouldn't  I  take  you  through  the  Bay  of  Biscay 
to  London?"  replies  Anstruther. 


44  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  As  a  physician,  I  doubt  if  Marina  could  stand 
the  tossing  she  might  get  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay  and 
the  Atlantic.  At  this  season  the  waters  are  gen 
erally  quiet  here,"  remarks  Barnes. 

"  You  think  my  bride  is  as  ill  as  all  that?  "  Ed 
win  clasps  his  hands  together  with  a  gesture  of 
affright. 

"  I  think  as  a  physician  without  practice,"  re 
marks  Barnes,  in  professional  tone,  "  that  the 
French  doctor  is  perfectly  right  when  he  says  if 
your  wife  would  avoid  brain  fever  she  requires  abso 
lute  rest  and  mighty  good  nursing  for  the  next  few 
days.  That's  the  reason  I  didn't  suggest  sending 
Enid  on  to  London  by  the  morning  train,  properly 
attended  and  guarded,  of  course." 

"  It's  just  as  well  you  didn't  make  that  sug 
gestion,"  replies  Miss  Anstruther,  decidedly.  "  I 
shouldn't  have  gone." 

"  Yes,  I — I  know  you  always  like  to  be  at  the 
front  of  the  scrimmage,  Enid,"  remarks  Barnes. 
"  So  just  keep  an  eye  out,  Edwin,  that  no  one  in 
trudes  upon  your  wife,  and  I'll  finish  up  all  the 
arrangements  about  the  yacht  with  Emory." 

Edwin  rises,  but  at  the  door,  which  had  been  left 
open  so  that  the  gentlemen  could  keep  their  eye  on 
the  passage  to  Marina's  room,  he  turns,  and  noting 
Barnes's  longing  eyes  directed  toward  his  sister,  says 
with  sailor  bluntness :  "  Old  man,  you  seem  to  think 


AN    UNPLEASANT   DOCUMENT  45 

of  everybody  but  yourself  in  this  matter.  Are  you 
aware  that  this  projected  cruise  won't  permit  you 
and  Enid  to  be  spliced  in  London  in  three  days  from 
now?  " 

"  I  had  not  forgotten  that,"  replies  Burton. 
"  How  could  I  ? "  His  eyes  still  on  his  beauti 
ful  fiancee,  who,  notwithstanding  her  anxiety  and 
trouble,  looks  lovely  as  a  goddess  and  tempting  as 
a  nymph. 

"  Well,"  says  the  sailor,  "  we  jack-tars  have  a 
custom  of  getting  married  before  we  start  on  a 
cruise.  There  are  ministers  in  Marseilles  as  well 
as  London."  Then  Edwin  Anstruther  walks  off, 
closing  the  door  behind  him  and  leaving  Mr.  Barnes 
confronted  with  a  young  lady  whose  lilies  have 
changed  to  roses  and — the  greatest  temptation  of 
his  life. 

The  poor  fellow  thinks  of  the  damnable  document 
he  has  in  his  pocket,  proclaiming  death  to  the  un 
fortunate  woman  who  marries  him;  he  remembers 
Mateo's  horrible  statements  as  to  the  fate  of 
females  marrying  into  a  blood  feud  and  forces  the 
desire  from  his  eyes. 

His  embarrassment  is  increased  by  the  superb 
manner  of  his  fiancee.  Without  a  word  she  walks 
up  to  Barnes  and  unaffectedly  tenders  him  her  lips. 

"  Don't  think  me  forward,"  she  whispers  sweetly, 
"  but  if  you  think  you  can  take  better  care  of  me  as 


46  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

your  wife — if  you  feel  very  much  disappointed  at  the 
— the  delay."  Her  words  are  faltered  out  bash 
fully  yet  succinctly.  Only  once  he  catches  her 
eyes,  they  are  melting  with  trust  and  devotion,  as 
they  seek  the  floor. 

She  is  in  his  arms. 

The  accursed  warning — threatening  death  to  her 
he  marries — rustles  in  his  pocketbook  as  he  crushes 
her  to  his  breast.  It  stays  the  mad  rush  of  his 
passion.  He  forces  himself  to  calmness  and  whis 
pers,  his  face  pale,  his  lips  contorted :  "  For  God's 
sake,  don't  misunderstand  me.  I  love  you  more 
dearly  than  ever,  but  until  this  affair  is  settled,  it 
would  be  an  infamy  if  I  married  you." 

"  Good  Heavens !  You  fear  they  are  going  to 
kill  you?" 

"  No,  if  there  is  any  killing  to  be  done,  I  pro 
pose  to  do  it."  For  an  instant  he  is  about  to  show 
her  the  infernal  document.  His  hand  is  already  on 
his  breast  pocket,  when  it  stops,  palsied.  Barnes 
remembers  the  impulsive  courage  of  his  betrothed. 
"  My  Lord,  if  she  saw  this,"  he  thinks,  "  Enid  would 
insist  on  marrying  me  offhand.  She'd  think  it  her 
duty  to  stand  as  my  wife  in  the  front  of  the  skirmish 
and  defy  them."  He  says  slowly,  almost  brokenly: 
"  You  must  trust  me  in  this  matter,  dear  one.  Only 
never  doubt  my  love." 

"  Oh,   that  would   be  too  horrible,"  she   falters, 


AN    UNPLEASANT   DOCUMENT  47 

"  Burton,  that  would  break  my  heart.  You  know 
more  about  the  affair  than  I.  You  are  the  best 
judge."  Her  lips  are  tendered  to  him  again,  but 
Barnes  notes,  with  a  sigh,  their  salute  is  colder, 
and  that  tears  are  very  near  the  divine  eyes  of 
Enid  Anstruther. 

Away  from  him,  she  wrings  her  white  hands,  and 
in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber,  wails :  "  Oh,  every 
thing  seems  to  be  changed  since  yesterday."  Then 
the  natural  pride  of  the  maiden  coming  to  her,  she 
says  haughtily  to  herself:  "The  next  proposition 
as  to  the  naming  of  the  wedding  day  shall  come 
from  you,  Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York,  and  perhaps — 
Oh,  my  Heaven  !  " 

This  last  distracting  mental  outcry  is  produced 
by  the  Chartris  infant  banging  in  upon  her  and 
ejaculating:  "Holy  Jones,  you  look  more  offish, 
Enid,  than  you  did  that  La  Belle  Blackwood  night 
at  Monte  Carlo."  To  this  Maud  adds,  merrily: 
"  Say,  ma  and  I  are  going  to  Nice.  I've  read  in  the 
papers  that  Blacky's  there  at  the  Hotel  de  St. 
Petersburg." 


CHAPTER    III 


MR.  BARNES  attempts  to  forget  his  postponed  nup 
tials  in  arranging  the  details  of  his  darling's  safety. 
Emory  shortly  brings  to  him  an  old  cancelled  check 
upon  a  branch  of  the  Credit  Lyonnais  bearing  the 
signature  of  Corregio  Cipriano  Danella,  but  com 
paring  it  with  Marina's  mutilated  note  and  also  the 
warning  sent  to  him,  the  American  cannot  be  certain 
of  the  handrwriting. 

"  Perhaps  it  has  been  disguised  in  both  the 
epistles,"  suggests  the  detective,  and  continues  his 
report.  "  As  far  as  I  can  find  from  a  clerk  in  the 
telegraph  office,  Rue  de  la  Republic,  that  I  have 
sometimes  hired  before  in  such  matters,  there  was 
a  long  cable  came  from  Bernardo  Saliceti  at  Ajaccio 
to  Corregio  Danella  late  yesterday  evening.  It 
stated  that  you  and  your  party  were  to  arrive  on 
the  Constantino;  that  you  by  your  arts  had  mur 
dered  his  brother,  and  that  Madame  Anstruther,  for 
the  defence  of  her  husband  against  the  just  ven 
geance  of  Tomasso  Monaldi,  had  produced  his 
shooting  by  De  Belloc's  cavalrymen.  This  is  only 
as  the  operator  remembered  it.  My  emissary  didn't 

48 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         49 

dare  to  try  and  get  a  duplicate  of  the  dispatch, 
which  was  already  on  file.  The  French  Govern 
ment  keeps  a  sharp  eye  upon  its  telegraph  offices." 

"  Isn't  it  curious,"  asks  Burton,  "  that  there  is 
no  account  yet  of  the  Corsican  tragedy  in  the 
French  journals  here?  " 

"  Politics  !  "  answers  the  detective.  "  There  is  an 
election  here  shortly,  and  they  fear  some  complica 
tion  with  the  English  Government.  England  is  at 
present  the  bete  noire  of  French  politicians.  The 
French  statesman  who  favours  in  any  way  England, 
the  villain  country,  who  they  say  has  stolen  Egypt 
and  the  Suez  Canal  from  France,  would  meet  irre 
sistible  defeat  at  the  polls.  Consequently,  they  have 
concluded,  I  reckon,  to  keep  this  matter  in  that  out 
of  the  way  island  as  quiet  as  possible  and  to  let 
Corsica  attend  to  its  own  local  killings.  I  doubt 
if  you  will  hear  of  the  affair  in  an  official  way — at 
all  events  not  till  after  the  election  for  deputies. 
Perhaps  that's  what  makes  young  Saliceti  so  eager 
to  do  you  up.  If  he  stood  as  a  representative  of 
the  time-honoured  vendetta  every  rustic  commune  in 
his  island  would  give  him  its  vote." 

"  That  being  the  case,"  says  Barnes,  "  we  have 
only  ourselves  to  rely  upon.  Have  you  made  all 
arrangements  about  the  yacht?  " 

"  Yes,  I've  got  the  schooner  Seagull,  Mr.  Wil 
liam  Jameson,  Glasgow,  chartered  for  three  weeks. 


50  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Jameson  is  returning  to  Scotland  and  is  very  will 
ing  to  lease  the  boat.  We  have  cleared  her  for 
Naples.  Crew  of  six  men  and  mate,  all  Scotch. 
The  captain,  as  I  told  you  before,  has  gone  to  Eng 
land,  so  your  naval  lieutenant  must  act  as  your 
navigator.  She  is  seagoing,  seventy  foot  on  the 
water  line,  Al  Lloyd's,  two  boats.  She  is  found  as 
to  stores  for  crew,  but  as  you  have  suggested,  I 
have  put  ice  and  cabin  supplies  on  board,  according 
to  the  memorandum  you  gave  me." 

"  Then  I  think  we'll  be  able  to  live  very  com 
fortably  for  a  couple  of  weeks,"  observes  Barnes, 
meditatively,  lighting  a  cigar. 

"  Yes,  you  may  have  to  go  into  some  little  port 
for  ice,  but  otherwise,  I  think,  you  will  find  every 
thing  to  your  liking.  The  Seagull  has  already 
dropped  out  of  the  Vieux  Port,  where  she  was  lay 
ing,  and  she  will  be  off  the  Corniche  Road  as  you 
directed.  I'll  have  a  boat  on  shore  at  the  Roucas 
Blanc." 

"  Then  the  next  thing  is  to  get  the  ladies  on 
board,  and  that,  of  course,  we  cannot  do  until  after 
dark,"  remarks  Burton.  "  You  had  best  not  be 
seen  about  here  any  more,  Emory,  but  you  had 
better  be  on  board  the  Seagull  when  we  arrive  there, 
so  as  to  turn  the  vessel  over  to  me.  Besides,  I  want 
to  introduce  you  to  the  ladies,  who  may  some  time  be 
compelled  to  ask  your  aid.  Remember,  you  are  to 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         51 

| 
take  nothing   but   this    affair   on   your   hands   now, 

and  I  expect  you  to  be  in  Nice  when  we  arrive  there. 
Get  a  photograph  of  this  Danella,  if  you  can ;  also 
see  who  arrives  on  the  next  steamer  from  either 
Bastia  or  Ajaccio,  and  if  this  Bernardo  Saliceti 
turns  up,  notify  me  if  there  is  any  meeting  between 
him  and  Danella." 

"  Yes,  I'll  shadow  everything,  even  you,"  chuckles 
the  sleuth,  grimly.  "  By  the  bye,  here's  Perrier's 
address  in  Nice.  He  is  quite  often  there.  You  will 
find  him,  for  a  French  mouchard,  perfectly  reliable. 
In  fact,  I  think  I  may  have  to  employ  him  a  little 
about  this  matter  if  things  grow  very  warm." 

"  Of  course,  you  know  you  have  carte  blanche," 
answers  Barnes.  "  On  consideration,  engage  two 
trustworthy  men  to  follow  our  carriage  on  horse 
back  this  evening.  I  must  take  no  chances  with 
the  ladies  in  our  company.  After  that,  I'll  look 
out  for  myself."  The  American's  face  grows  so 
unpleasant  that  Emory  ejaculates:  "Gee  whiz!"  as 
his  employer  goes  off  to  Lady  Chartris's  parlour  to 
make  some  necessary  financial  arrangements  with 
that  lady. 

Mr.  Barnes  has  scarcely  finished  these  and  Lady 
Chartris  has  carried  away  his  check  delighted,  when 
Maud  bounces  in  upon  him,  her  eyes  big  with  excite 
ment  and  mystery.  "  Gee,  Marina  is  a  case !  '* 
she  whispers. 


52  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

•# 

"  Why  ?  "  asks  Burton,  glancing  sharply  at  her. 

"  Why,  getting  a  note  from  a  man  the  second 
day  she  was  married  and  crazy  with  fear  her  forty- 
eight  hours'  bridegroom  will  drop  onto  her  little 
game." 

Barnes  gazes  upon  the  infant  prodigy  and  emits 
a  low  whistle.  "  You  are  certainly  a  hummer, 
Maudie,"  he  remarks,  solemnly. 

"You  bet!"  assents  Miss  Chartris,  who  has  just 
stepped  in  from  an  exciting  interview  with  Marina 
that  has  run  about  in  this  way : 

The  beautiful  Corsican  bride,  apparently  hav 
ing  recovered  from  the  first  shock  of  the  letter  in 
the  Marseilles  depot,  being  dressed,  at  Enid's  re 
quest,  for  her  carriage  excursion,  seems  now  full  of 
an  excited  yet  morbid  anxiety.  Obtaining  op 
portunity  when  Miss  Chartris  has  entered  her  bed 
room  to  give  her  a  kiss,  tender  her  condolences  and 
get  into  the  affair  "  with  both  feet,"  as  the  adoles 
cent  intrigante  expresses  it  to  herself,  Marina  whis 
pers,  a  strange  pathos  in  her  eyes :  "  Maud,  dear, 
you  have  come  to  give  me  that  letter  you  picked 
up — the  one  I  dropped  on  the  floor  of  the  railroad 
depot  when — when  I  was  overcome  with  the  heat  this 
morning." 

"  Jinks,  that's  a  nice  way  of  putting  it — overcome 
with  the  heat?  It  was  the  letter  knocked  you," 
returns  the  Chartris  infant,  with  a  knowing  wink. 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         53 

"  No  matter  what  it  was  affected  me,"  whispers 
the  young  Corsican  lady,  intensely.  "  The  letter — 
I  must  have  it  at  once !  He — he  must  not  see  it !  " 

"  I — I  didn't  pick  it  up ! "  mutters  Maud,  dog 
gedly. 

"  I  saw  you !  Even  when  my  eyes  were  closing, 
I  saw  you !  Give  me  the  letter,  child,  or  I  shall  have 
to  ask  your  mother  to  get  it  from  you  for  me !" 

The  horrible  possibilities  of  such  a  demand  im 
press  themselves  on  Maud  with  distressing  effect; 
she  snivels :  "  Holy  Jones !  don't  tell  ma,  she'd  skin 
me." 

"Then,  the  letter!"  ejaculates  Marina,  wildly. 

"  Well,  if  you  must  know,  I  sold  it  to  Barnes  for 
two  boxes  of  marrons  glaces." 

"  Sold  that  letter?  Ay  de  nu,  if  he  shows  it  to 
my  husband ! "  And  Marina  paces  the  floor  in 
agitated  dread. 

"  Well,  that's  nice — scared  your  husband  will  see 
a  billet  doux  sent  by  a  man  that  knocked  you  silly; 
and  you  only  married  two  days." 

"  Not  frightened  in  the  disgraceful  way  you 
think !  "  cries  the  lovely  bride,  her  dark  eyes  gleam 
ing  pure  as  those  of  Diana.  "  Besides,  after  the 
last  few  days,  my  Edwin  could  not  think  harm  of 
me.  Of  that  I  am  sure." 

"  Oh,  you  just  wait.  You'll  work  him  up  good 
before  long,"  suggests  Maud,  pleasantly. 


54  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Don't  torture  me,  miserable!  I  have  brought 
too  much  misfortune  on  him  already."  Tears  dim 
the  orbs  of  the  Corsican  girl.  *'  Tell  dear  Mr. 
Barnes  that  I  must  see  him ;  that  it  is  very  im 
portant." 

"  Why,  sure  I'll  do  it,  though  I  don't  think  he'll 
help  you  put  up  any  job  on  your 

"  Put  up  any  job?  Another  base  insinuation 
from  your  childish  lips  and  I'll  tell  your  mother 
you  had  that  letter  concealed !  Away !  "  Looking 
like  a  frenzied  goddess,  Marina  opens  her  door  and 
Maud  speeds  from  it. 

"  Gee,"  remarks  the  young  lady  to  herself,  as  she 
flits  along  the  hotel  passageway  and  notes  An- 
struther  keeping  watch  outside  his  wife's  door. 
"  Poor,  honest,  old  Edwin — I'd  tell  him,  only  ma 
would  skin  me  sure.  Ma  says  that  all  foreign 
women  are  saints  before  and  devils  -after  marriage." 

Here  eyes  are  still  big  with  suspected  intrigue  as 
she  continues  her  conversation  with  Mr.  Barnes  by 
suddenly  interjecting:  "She  wants  to  see  you!" 

"Who?" 

"  Marina,  the  bride,  of  course.  She  wants  to 
give  you  a  hint  not  to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag 
to  Edwin  about  the  man  whose  letter  made  her 
faint."  Then  the  girl  asks  with  anxious  interest: 
"  You — you  are  going  to  remain  here  for  two  or 
three  days  longer,  aren't  you,  Barnes?" 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         55 

The  American  by  no  means  wishes  Maud  to  know 
of  his  coming  movements ;  in  fact,  as  to  this  point, 
he  has  directly  charged  Lady  Chartris.  He  replies 
hurriedly,  yet  confidently :  "  Certainly — of  course !  " 

"  Then  it's  all  right." 

"What's  all  right?"  The  child's  eager  yet 
anxious  manner  startles  Mr.  Barnes. 

Here,  Miss  Chartris,  who  has  suddenly  looked  out 
of  the  window,  trying  to  hide  a  telltale  face  from  the 
piercing  glance  of  her  companion,  ejaculates  almost 
tremblingly,  in  the  slang  she  has  learnt  from  him: 
"Holy  poker!" 

"What's   the  matter?" 

"  Why,  there's  the  man  walking  up  the  street 
who  gave  me  the  note  that  knocked  Marina  out  of 
time — the  one  with  the  scar  over  his  eye.  Oh,  mur 
der,  he's  looking  up  at  our  windows  in  the  hotel !  " 
Maud  dodges  back  in  a  frightened  way. 

But  Barnes  is  already  cautiously  taking  cog 
nisance  from  another  window  of  the  man  whose  scar 
identifies  him  in  the  throng  of  passers-by  on  the 
Rue  Noailles.  The  gentleman  he  gazes  upon  is, 
though  actively  built,  lounging  past  with  a  pair  of 
flashing  eyes  alertly  yet  intently  fixed  upon  some 
window  of  the  hotel  near  where  Burton  is  standing. 

Dressed  in  the  deep  mourning  of  Southern 
France,  a  high  Corsican  hat  lends  picturesqueness 
to  his  costume.  A  certain  family  likeness  suggests 


56  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

to  Barnes  that  this  man,  though  nearly  fifteen  years 
younger,  is  the  half  brother  of  the  dead  Count 
Musso  Danella.  His  dark  eyes  have  the  same 
flame  in  them,  but  are  brutal  rather  than  subtle. 
This  may  have  been  produced  partially  by  dissipa 
tion,  for  the  pallid  lips  and  rather  pinched  features 
indicate  boisterous  nights  over  the  gaming  table 
with  its  attendant  pleasures  of  wine  and  women. 

"  Jingo,  this  fellow  has  the  same  devilish  pas 
sions  as  those  of  his  dead  brother,"  thinks  Burton, 
impressed,  "  only  more  so,  if  possible." 

All  this  has  been  taken  in  by  a  glance;  great 
pistol  shots  have  very  quick  vision.  Suddenly  the 
man  responds  to  something  he  has  seen  in  one 
of  the  windows  of  the  hotel  by  a  nasty,  sneering 
grin. 

"  What  the  devil  did  he  see  in  the  window  ? " 
thinks  Barnes,  and  to  Maud's  astonishment  bolts 
from  the  room,  runs  down  the  stairs  of  the  hotel, 
and  passes  through  the  office  into  the  street. 

In  the  throng  of  the  rather  crowded  Rue  Noailles, 
though  Burton's  sharp  eyes  are  used  with  great 
rapidity,  he  fails  to  find  this  man  he  now  feels  quite 
certain  must  be  Corregio  Danella. 

Then  the  American  glances  up  at  the  windows  of 
the  hotel  and  at  the  third  from  that  in  which  he  had 
been  standing,  the  one  he  knows  is  Marina's  cham 
ber,  he  sees  the  bride  of  Edwin  Anstruther  stag- 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         57 

gering  away.  A  second  later,  Barnes's  quick  eyes, 
even  in  the  relative  darkness  of  the  room,  note  that 
the  girl  sinks  into  a  chair,  above  her  head  are  ex 
tended  two  graceful  arms,  their  slight  fingers 
clenched  in  some  cruel  emotion,  some  miserable 
despair. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  Edwin's  wife  has  given 
this  man  some  signal  from  her  window  that  caused 
his  triumph?  Of  course,  she  knew  him  personally; 
he  was  the  brother  of  her  dead  guardian.  The 
clock  has  just  struck  four — could  it  be  the  time 
appointed?  " 

A  moment's  consideration  effaces  this  thought. 
"  No  woman  can  be  more  devoted  to  her  husband 
than  the  bride  of  Edwin  Anstruther.  Whatever 
the  agitated  girl  has  done  is  intended  for  her  hus 
band's  safety.  What  can  that  be?  " 

A  second  later,  he  thinks,  it  must  have  merely 
been  some  sign  of  woe  or  fear  that  had  produced 
the  triumph  of  Corregio  Danella. 

This  reminds  Barnes  of  Marina's  request  to  see 
him.  "  I  will  find  out  from  Mrs.  Anstruther  the 
contents  of  that  devilish  letter  this  astute  distractor 
of  matrimonial  bliss  sent  her,"  he  thinks,  and  steps 
rapidly  back  into  the  hotel. 

Upon  the  second  floor,  finding  Edwin  still  stalking 
about  the  passageway  and  keeping  his  watch  upon 
his  wife's  chamber,  Burton  quite  shortly  states  he 


58  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

has  a  suggestion  or  two  as  regards  their  yachting 
trip  to  make  to  Marina. 

The  consequence  is  that  her  husband  soon  after 
brings  her  into  the  parlour  the  party  has  secured  for 
their  general  use.  As  he  does  so,  Barnes  notices 
something  in  the  bride's  manner  to  her  husband  that 
increases  his  alarm  for  her.  In  the  morning,  though 
Marina's  eyes  showed  traces  of  the  sufferings  their 
owner  had  undergone,  they  were  full  of  hope  as 
they  rested  on  her  bridegroom.  Now  despair  ap 
pears  to  have  taken  its  place  as  her  beautiful  orbs 
linger  lovingly  yet  sadly  on  the  man  she  adores, 
and  then  seem  to  turn  from  him  agitated  by  some 
hidden  determination. 

Once  Barnes  thinks  it  shame.  Her  face  flushes 
so  vividly  and  she  moves  so  uneasily  on  her  chair  as 
Edwin  speaks  of  getting  her  to  London  as  soon  as 
she  is  strong  enough  to  take  that  long  railroad 
journey. 

A  moment  after  Anstruther  says,  in  a  loud  tone 
intended  for  his  bride's  ears :  "  Take  care  of  her 
while  I  do  my  packing,"  adding  in  a  cautious  whis 
per  to  Barnes :  "  See  if  you  can  find  out  what  is 
really  the  matter  with  my  darling.  Some  devilish 
thing  must  have  happened  to  her  at  the  railroad 
depot.  She  won't  tell  me.  You  discover." 

Under  these  circumstances,  Barnes  is  very  eager 
to  learn  the  balance  of  the  note  which  had  shattered 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         59 

the  bride's  nerves.  He  remembers  that  Maud  had 
said  Marina  drew  herself  up  haughtily,  resistingly 
and  courageously  as  she  read  the  first  portion ;  that 
it  was  the  last  few  lines  of  the  letter  which  seemed 
to  conquer  her  spirit  and  break  her  heart;  and 
it  is  this  portion  that  is  missing  from  the  espistle. 

"  Glad  you're  looking  so  fit,  Marina,"  he  re 
marks,  lightly,  for  they  have  grown  into  the  habit 
of  addressing  each  other  with  the  familiarity  of 
coming  relatives.  "  Maud  told  me  you  wished  to 
speak  to  me." 

"  Why,  certainly,  Burton,  I — you — you  have 
read  the  letter  that  struck  me  down  in  the  railroad 
station.  I  must  beg  you  not  to  be  cruel  enough 
to  even  hint  to  my  husband  its  contents." 

"  Why,  of  course.  'Tis  best  for  Edwin,  at  pres 
ent,  at  all  events,  to  be  in  the  dark,"  returns  Barnes, 
groping  darkly  himself ;  adding  assuringly :  "  You 
must  pick  up  courage,  my  dear  girl.  You  faced  a 
greater  trial  only  two  days  ago." 

Her  answer  confuses  and  astounds  her  interrog 
ator.  "Faced  a  greater  trial?"  she  says  pite- 
ously.  "  Perhaps  in  one  way."  After  this  she 
gasps  for  a  moment  and  suddenly  cries :  "  Then  you 
haven't  read  the  letter." 

"  Read  it — most  of  it.  A  portion  of  it  hasn't 
come  into  my  hands  yet.  Maud  said  you  tore  it 
up." 


60  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Ah,  thank  God,  you  missed  the  last  part.  Then 
you  might  have  told  my  husband  and  I  could  never 
have  done  it." 

"  Never  have  done  what?  " 

"  What  you  will  not  know  till  it  is  done ! " 

This  is  said  with  a  resigned  calmness  that 
affrights  her  auditor  more  than  the  wildest  excited 
outbreak.  He  knows  enough  of  women  to  be  now 
sure  that  though  Marina  is  racked  to  her  very  soul 
— she  will  not  give  tongue  till  something  suggested 
to  her  by  the  letter  is  accomplished — either  for  good 
or  evil. 

"  You'd  better  tell  it  to  me  so  that  I  may  advise 
you,"  he  suggests. 

But  the  beautiful  bride  pacing  the  chamber,  her 
hands  pressed  to  her  brow,  suddenly  pauses  in 
front  of  him  and  says :  "  No,  I'll  be  my  own  coun 
sellor  in  this  matter.  I'll  fight  the  dread  fight  out 
with  myself.  I'll  try  and " 

Her  distracted  manner  adds  to  Barnes's  fear,  not 
of  her  love  and  devotion  to  Edwin,  but  of  her  judg 
ment  in  some  project  she  keeps  concealed.  He  says, 
imperatively :  "  You  must  tell  me." 

"  No,  'tis  between  my  conscience,  my  God  and  my 
husband.  Only  tell  Edwin,  tell  him,  in  case 

"  In  case  what?  " 

"  Oh,  you  know  the  cruel  things  that  may  happen 
in  such  a  blood  feud  which  is  again  revived,  now 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         61 

worse  than  before.  In  case  I  pass  from  my  husband's 
sight,  tell  him  that  I  always  loved  him;  that — that 
I  didn't  believe.  Should  I  do  something  he  re 
grets,  he  condemns,  ask  him  to  forgive  me;  it  was 
because  I  loved  him  better  than — than  my  own 
soul!" 

"  Confide  in  me !  "  The  American's  voice  is  com 
manding.  "  If  you  don't,  I  am  compelled  to  tell 
your  husband  of  this  letter.  We  can't  let  you  tear 
yourself  into  nervous  flinders  and  not  know  how 
to  aid  you."  To  this  he  adds,  hoping  by  flippancy 
to  lighten  her  heart :  "  Edwin  will  soon  make  those 
pretty  lips  speak." 

"  Never,  though  I  adore  him !  "  she  cries  hoarsely. 
"  I  cannot — I  will  not — it  is  so  craftily,  so  fiendishly 
cruel,  it  strikes  my  husband  and  all  our  future  hap 
piness.  It  is  worse  than  if  they  killed  me  as  they 
will  some  day.  They  hope  to  slay  not  only  our 
bodies,  but  to  destroy  even  Edwin's  love  for  me  be 
fore  I  die." 

Barnes,  as  he  looks  upon  the  fair  face  of  the  lovely 
bride,  flushing  at  times  with  tenderest  passion  and 
frenzied  devotion,  and  at  others  growing  pallid  as 
a  death  mask,  thinks  how  his  own  immediate  wed 
ding  to  Enid  Anstruther  has  been  subtly  thwarted 
by  the  letter  he  carries  in  his  pocketbook  which  he 
guesses  came  from  the  same  man.  He  now  knows 
that  his  love  for  his  affianced  is  being  assaulted  as 


62  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

well  as  the  honeymoon  happiness  of  these  two  just 
mated. 

"  For  the  sake  of  all  of  us  you  must  speak,"  he 
commands. 

The  answer  of  the  Corsican  bride  mystifies  the 
American  more  than  ever.  She  says  nobly,  yet 
doggedly :  "  For  the  sake  of  my  husband,  I  am 
silent." 

"  You  should  use  every  weapon  in  your  hands  in 
this  battle  which  is  waged  against  both  your  happi 
ness  and  your  life,"  dissents  her  adviser,  almost 
sternly. 

"  Still  I  am  silent,"  ejaculates  the  girl,  almost 
hysterically. 

"  Then  you  compel  me  to  tell  Edwin  of  the 
letter,"  he  says  shortly. 

As  Barnes  speaks,  the  bridegroom  enters;  and 
woman's  tact  destroys  his  opportunity. 

In  a  second  as  her  eyes  light  upon  Edwin,  the 
charming  vivacity  of  Marina's  old  time  manner 
seems  to  revive  in  her.  She  throws  herself  enthu 
siastically  but  coquettishly  into  the  arms  opening 
for  her  and  cries,  half  playfully,  half  tearily :  "  Ed 
win,  in  the  railroad  depot  I  received  a  note  that 
produced  my  nervous  agitation." 

"Aha!" 

"  Mr.  Barnes  thinks  it  wise  I  tell  you  its  con 
tents.  I  don't.  Now,  of  course,  innamorato  mio, 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         63 

if  you  say  so,  I  must  do  as  you  tell  me.  I  am  an 
obedient  wife."  She  puts  her  arms  caressingly 
round  Edwin's  neck  and  whispers:  "  Shall  I?  "  then 
gives  him  a  tempting  little  kiss. 

"  Hang  it,  Barnes,"  answers  Anstruther,  under 
these  allurements,  "  I  have  too  much  trust  in  my 
darling  to  want  to  read  her  letters." 

"  You're  a  very  bright  girl  to  have  your  husband 
so  soon  in  subjugation,"  remarks  Burton,  gloomily. 
"  But,  Marina,  in  such  a  vital  matter,  I  warn  you 
to  beware  of  playing  your  enemies'  game." 

"  Pooh,"  answers  Edwin,  who  has  received  an 
other  kiss  or  two,  "  what  do  you,  a  bachelor,  know 
about  women,  anyway?"  Then  he  jeers  in  sailor 
bluntness :  "  You  and  Enid  didn't  hunt  up  a  minister 
to-day.  You  are  not  so  enterprising  a  fellow  as 
I  thought  you,  Barnes,  for  I  am  quite  certain  that 
I  saw  consent  in  my  sister's  red  cheeks  and  droop 
ing  eyes.  Take  a  tip  from  a  Jack-tar — splice  your 
girl  the  moment  she  drops  her  colours.  Then  you 
have  her,  as  I  have  my  bride." 

At  this,  Marina  utters  a  subdued  yet  ghastly 
sigh,  which  is  destroyed  by  the  kiss  of  her  young 
husband,  and  the  unfortunate  Burton  goes  silently 
away. 

By  himself,  reflecting  upon  his  betrothed's  man 
ner  to  him  that  has  been  growing  colder  and  more 
distant  each  minute  since  he  has  tacitly  refused  to 


64  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

immediately  make  himself  lord  of  her  trusting  love 
liness,  he  cogitates  morosely :  "  Am  I  not  playing 
our  enemies'  game  also  in  not  wedding  Enid?  By 
Heaven,  we  have  not  only  stilettos  against  us,  but 
brains  in  this  horrible  affair." 

But  it  is  too  late  for  a  minister  now.  Their  car 
riage  is  already  at  the  door  to  take  them  away  first 
for  a  little  drive  on  the  Prado  to  destroy  suspicion, 
then  when  evening  darkness  falls  upon  the  land,  to 
the  Corniche  Road,  where  the  boat  will  be  waiting 
to  put  them  on  shipboard. 

The  party  have  very  little  luggage  with  them. 
Their  valises  have  all  been  slipped  out  cautiously 
earlier  in  the  day  by  Emory,  who  will  place  them  on 
the  yacht. 

Smoking  his  cigar,  as  he  makes  his  preparations, 
the  American  suddenly  exclaims  to  himself  in  a  tone 
of  relief :  "  Bah,  that  flashing-eyed,  drooping-lipped, 
scar-faced  brute  hardly  looked  Machiavellian  enough 
to  invent  such  social  bombs  as  have  come,  I  think, 
between  Marina  and  her  husband  and  Enid  and  my 
self.  The  results  of  those  letters  were  accidental,  I 
imagine.  We've  only  the  real  Corsican  article,  cold 
steel,  to  fear,  I  reckon." 

Barnes  carefully  inspects  his  pistols  again.  Be 
sides  these,  he  has  only  a  walking  cane  to  take  with 
him.  As  he  picks  his  stick  up,  Miss  Maud  Chartris 
flies  in  to  him,  excitement  and  dismay  on  her  face. 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME          65 

"  What  do  you  want — more  marrons  glaces?  '* 
he  asks,  savagely.  * 

"  Why,  Marina  and  Enid  say  they  are  only  going 
out  for  a  drive  on  the  Prado,  and  they  have  both 
got  their  hand-satchels  with  them." 

"  To  keep  their  jewellery  safe  from  bell-boys," 
mutters  Barnes.  "  Besides,  those  satchels  have 
powder  puffs  in  them,  I  imagine." 

"  Then — you're — you're  not  going  away  now?  " 
This  last  very  nervously. 

"Does  this  look  like  it?"  says  Burton,  tapping 
nonchalantly  his  boot  with  his  cane.  "  Enquire  at 
the  office  and  see  if  I've  paid  my  hotel  bill." 

This  Emory  by  arrangement  will  settle  later. 

"  Oh — then  it's  all  right !  "  A  great  relief  ripples 
the  Chartris  girl's  face.  She  swishes  her  two  blonde 
pigtails  merrily  about. 

"  Certainly,  it's  all  right,  Maudie.  Au  revoir, 
till  breakfast,"  and  Mr.  Barnes  goes  away  with  Ed 
win  to  take  the  ladies  down  to  the  open  barouche 
that  is  awaiting  them.  At  the  hotel  entrace  the 
American  whispers  to  Anstruther:  "  Put  our  charges 
in.  I'll  stand  back  and  keep  my  eyes  open.  No 
one  will  be  quick  enough  to  harm  them.  I've  got 
my  hand  on  my  pistol." 

Acting  upon  this  Edwin  places  both  his  bride  and 
his  sister  in  the  carriage  and  seats  himself  in  front 
of  them,  looking  as  carefully  to  the  rear  as  if  he 


66  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

expected  a  white-squall.  Barnes  springs  into  the 
barouche,  whispers  some  orders  to  the  driver  and 
they  roll  away,  he  keeping  his  eyes  to  the  front; 
for  a  quick  glance  backward  shows  that  the  two 
men  he  had  directed  the  detective  to  engage  are 
following  at  a  discreet  distance  on  horseback. 

Gazing  on  the  carriage  as  it  rolls  away,  Maud 
says  contentedly  to  herself :  "  Cracky,  I  was  scared 
Burton  was  going  before  I  told  it  to  him,"  then  adds 
contentedly :  "  Gee,  I'm  as  smart  as  a  diplomatist," 
as  she  fishes  a  fourth  piece  of  paper  out  of  the 
bosom  of  her  frock.  "  If  I'd  sold  all  that  letter  to 
Barnes  at  the  first  jump,  I'd  have  been  out  of  stock 
in  trade.  As  it  is,  by  to-morrow  Marina  will  be 
worrying  like  blazes  and  Barnes  will  be  so  hot  about 
it  that  he'll  come  down  rich  for  the  rest  of  this  note. 
Oh,  Maudie,  you're  a  winner !  "  So  Miss  Chartris 
goes  up  to  a  bread  and  butter  tea  with  her  governess 
quite  contentedly  and  munches  marrons  glaces  sur 
reptitiously  over  her  lessons  for  the  two  succeeding 
hours.  Then  the  carriage  not  returning  with  the 
driving  party,  the  intrigante  grows  anxious.  She 
sneaks  down  to  the  hotel  office  and  whispers  to  the 
clerk:  "Have  they  come  back  yet?  You  know, 
our  friends — Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York  and  his 
party?" 

"  Not  yet,  Mademoiselle,  though  I  believe  their 
carriage  has  returned." 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME         67 

"  Their  carriage  returned?  "  Maud  darts  nerv 
ously  to  her  mother's  parlour.  Lady  Chartris  is 
seated  engrossed  to  her  heart  strings  in  a  French 
novel. 

"  Why  are  you  rushing  in  upon  me,  you  horried 
child?  "  cries  her  mother,  angry  at  being  inter 
rupted  at  the  first  indication  that  the  heroine  wife 
is  untrue  to  the  Marquis,  her  husband. 

"  Oh,  ma,  I  thought  you'd  like  to  know !  Miss 
Marston  says  I  had  such  a  good  lesson  in  arith 
metic." 

"  Very  well,  tell  Miss  Marston  to  give  you  an 
other  and  a  longer  one." 

"  Yes,  but  it's  too  late  now.  It's  ten  o'clock  and 
Mr.  Barnes  and  Enid  and  the  rest  haven't  come 
back.  When  do  you  expect  them,  ma?" 

"  I  don't  expect  them." 

"What?"  Maud's  eyes  roll  in  a  dazed  way. 

"  They  have  gone  away." 

"Where?" 

"  To  London,  I  imagine." 

"  Oh,  good  Lordy,  what  a  fib !  " 

"  You  dare  to  say  fib  to  me ! "  shrieks  Pru 
nella,  springing  up  and  giving  her  offspring  a 
shake  that  makes  her  teeth  chatter  in  her  luckless 
head. 

"  No,  no !  Not  to  you,  dear  mama — to  Barnes 
of  New  York.  Don't!  don't!  you  don't  understand! 


£8  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

The  liar  said  '  Au  revoir  till  breakfast '  to  me  and 
sneaked  away;  when  I  had " 

Maud  goes  out  in  such  paroxysms  of  despair  that 
Lady  Chartris  gasps :  "  Good  Heavens,  don't  moan 
so!  Have  you  guzzled  bonbons  till  you've  got 
cramps?  " 

"No,  it's— it's— they— it's  the  arithmetic,  I 
think,"  wails  Maud,  who  dare  not  reveal  the 
cause  of  her  despair. 

"  Very  well,  go  away — get  to  bed ! "  Lady 
Chartris  seizes  her  novel  again.  "  Stop  howling, 
or " 

"  Yes,  ma !  "  Maud  flies  from  the  room,  and  alone 
in  her  own  chamber  sobs,  groans  and  rends  her  hair, 
muttering :  "  Oh,  I  could  have  sold  Barnes  the  other 
part  of  Marina's  letter  for  lots,  and  now  he's  gone 
away  and  it  ain't  worth  tuppence." 

She  is  about  to  go  despairingly  to  bed  when  curi 
osity  mingling  with  her  disappointment,  she  ejacu 
lates  :  "  Cracky,  I  wonder  what  it  is  anyway,"  and 
goes  to  studying  the  little  quarter  of  a  sheet  of 
letter  paper  she  has  drawn  from  the  bosom  of  her 
frock. 

It  is  a  mixture  of  French  and  Italian.  She  can 
not  entirely  decipher  the  foreign  handwriting;  in 
deed,  she  can  scarcely  understand  it. 

But  some  passages  in  it  produce  such  a  terrible 
effect  upon  the  child's  nerves  that  after  she  has  gone 


PLAYING    THE    ENEMIES'    GAME          69 

to  her  little  bed  she  tosses  about  and  sleep  will  not 
come  to  her.  Suddenly  her  very  pigtails  seem  to 
stiffen  with  terror ;  she  rises  half  out  of  bed  and  mut 
ters  to  herself  these  astounding  words:  "Oh,  jim- 
cracks,  what  do  they  mean  by  killing  her,  if  she 
does;  and  killing  her  husband,  if  she  doesn't?  " 


CHAPTER    IV 

"  SUSPECT    EVERYBODY !  " 

"  How    do    you    feel,    old    man  ? "    asks    Edwin,    as 
Barnes  seats  himself  in  the  carriage. 

"  Like  the  Czar  of  Russia,"  answers  the  American 
modestly  though  unguardedly.  For  at  this  hideous 
joke  Miss  Enid,  seated  opposite  to  him,  utters  a 
suppressed  shriek  and  Marina  emits  a  shuddering 
sigh. 

Then  the  carriage  dashes  past  the  numerous  mag 
nificent  cafes  of  the  Rue  Noailles  and  turns  into  the 
wide  Rue  de  Rome,  the  horses  keeping  up  a  smart 
gait,  for  Burton  has  directed  the  driver  not  even  to 
check  his  speed  for  beggars.  So  narrowly  missing 
running  down  some  importunate  mendicants,  they 
flit  between  the  elms  and  plane  trees  with  which  this 
beautiful  avenue  is  planted,  and  passing  the  Obelisk, 
enter  the  even  broader  Prado. 

This  fashionable  drive  of  the  commercial  metrop 
olis  of  Southern  France  is  now  quite  full  of  hand 
some  private  equipages,  and  as  the  evening  comes 
on,  bringing  with  it  a  slight  breeze  from  the  Medi 
terranean  to  produce  a  pleasant  chill  in  the  air,  the 
whole  scene  is  one  of  animated  excitement. 
.  Under  ordinary  circumstances,  the  four  would  en- 

70 


"SUSPECT    EVERYBODY!"  71 

joy  their  carriage  exercise  greatly,  but  when  sud 
den  death  hangs  over  one  and  every  sense  is  strained 
to  guard  against  the  intangible,  pleasure  is  neces 
sarily  far  distant.  In  addition,  the  two  written 
communications  sent,  Barnes  now  is  satisfied,  by 
Corregio  Cipriano  Danella,  are  doing  some  nasty 
yet  very  subtle  work  upon  at  least  three  of  the  mem 
bers  of  the  party. 

Marina,  though  her  beauty  attracts  the  eyes  of 
many  who  roll  by  her  in  carriages,  appears  to  have 
but  one  thought,  the  safety  of  her  husband.  Barnes 
notices  with  concern  that  her  eyes  are  dilated  by  a 
nervous,  hunted,  frightened-deer  expression  that 
deepens  their  exquisite  passion.  Her  gaze  is  always 
about  her  husband,  as  if  to  warn  him  of  an  ap 
proaching  blow. 

Several  times  she  glances  apprehensively  at  the 
horsemen  who  canter  after  their  carriage,  keeping 
always  at  discreet  distance. 

Marina's  nervousness  quickens  the  pistol-shot's 
searching  eyes  that  now  seem  to  be  everywhere.  If 
a  beggar  approaches  and  takes  off  his  hat,  demand 
ing  alms,  he  is  watched  as  carefully  as  if  he  were  a 
rattlesnake  coiled  to  spring.  If  another  carriage 
rolls  too  closely  by  them,  every  man  in  it  is  regarded 
by  the  American  as  if  he  were  a  road  agent  in 
disguise. 

Yet,  during  this,  the  unfortunate  procrastinator 


72  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

has  time  to  note  not  only  the  supreme  loveliness  of 
his  fiancee,  who  might  have  even  now  been  his  bride, 
but  also  to  perceive  in  the  proud  yet  resigned  man 
ner  of  the  exquisite  English  girl  that  she  haughtily 
resents  his  lack  of  eagerness  to  possess  the  dazzling 
charms  that  would — had  he  said  so — have  been  his 
very  own. 

As  they  drive  on  Enid's  eyes  blaze  like  blue  stars. 
Her  manner  is  daintily  ethereal,  yet  she  laughs  al 
most  heartily  as  a  lame  and  blind  beggar  who  had 
stood  demanding  alms  in  front  of  their  approaching 
equipage,  suddenly  opens  his  sightless  eyes  and 
springs  aside  agilely  with  his  paralysed  legs  to  avoid 
being  run  down  by  their  reckless  coachman.  Still, 
when  the  crowd  of  carriages  near  the  Chateau  des 
Fleurs  compels  their  coachman  to  draw  rein,  her 
eyes  grow  resolute  to  meet  any  unknown  danger 
that  may  come  upon  them. 

Perhaps  this  is  produced  by  the  two  men  on  horse 
back  attracting  her  attention. 

"Who  are  they?"  she  whispers. 

And  Edwin  adds :  "  I  have  been  keeping  a  weather 
eye  on  those  two  devils." 

Marina  only  gazes  at  them  and  shudders.  Her 
slight  hand  clings  to  her  husband's  sleeve.  Her 
agitation  is  so  great  Barnes  is  compelled  to  explain 
that  Emory  has  engaged  the  men  for  their  pro 
tection. 


"SUSPECT    EVERYBODY!"  7$ 

"  You  think  our  danger  is  so  imminent  as  all 
this  ?  "  asks  Anstruther. 

"  I  think  it  wise  to  take  every  precaution. " 
Barnes  turns  his  eyes  upon  the  men,  but  the  gloom 
of  approaching  night  has  become  so  deep  that  their 
faces  are  now  absolutely  indistinguishable.  Besides, 
both  have  slouch  hats  drawn  well  down.  Apparently 
they  wish  their  attendance  not  to  excite  public 
comment. 

Then  Barnes  and  his  party  drive  on  again  and 
the  American's  eyes  rest  appealingly  on  his  beau 
tiful  fiancee  as  she  sits  opposite  to  him,  but  hers  do 
not  answer  the  tenderness  of  his  glance.  In  fact, 
they  grow  colder  under  his  appeal.  Her  manner 
seems  to  say :  "  You  had  your  golden  opportunity, 
laggard.  It  will  be  a  long  time  before  you  obtain 
another." 

"  Some  day  my  dear  one  will  understand,"  he 
sighs  to  himself  and  forces  his  entire  attention  on 
the  safety  of  the  party  from  a  danger  whose  very 
intangibility  makes  it  difficult  to  provide  against. 

Meantime  they  are  approaching  the  Mediter 
ranean.  The  equipages  grow  less  numerous  upon 
the  avenue  which  they  had  filled  but  half  an  hour 
ago. 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  too  early  to  put  the  girls  on 
the  yacht  yet?  "  whispers  Edwin. 

"  Yes,  not  dark  enough,"  and  Barnes  directs  the 


74  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

coachman  to  take  the  narrower  drive  called  the 
Mazargues  and  go  past  the  race  course,  reaching 
the  Corniche  Road. 

All  the  time  the  two  horsemen  jog  on  behind  them 
at  a  discreet  distance.  The  sea  breeze  freshens,  the 
night  deepens  and  they  reach  the  Corniche  Road 
that  skirts  the  sea.  All  other  equipages  have  left 
it.  Here  Barnes  changes  their  course  and  they  re 
turn  in  the  direction  of  the  city  towards  the  Roucas 
Blanc. 

Their  carriage  soon  stops  near  the  two  small  bays 
upon  which  are  situated  the  bathhouses.  At  a  little 
landing  place  Barnes  can  just  discern  in  the  mist 
of  the  water,  which  adds  to  the  gloom  of  the  even 
ing,  a  boat  with  two  seamen. 

To  be  certain,  he  hails  and  is  answered  by 
Emory's  voice. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  whispers  to  the  ladies  and 
springs  out  of  the  carriage. 

The  next  moment  Emory  has  run  up  from  the 
landing  and  is  standing  beside  him.  "  I'm  right 
glad  to  find  ye  here  safe,"  remarks  the  detective, 
as  he  is  introduced  to  Marina  and  Enid.  Suddenly 
Emory  whispers  suspiciously  to  Barnes :  "  You  get 
the  ladies  into  the  boat  quick.  I  told  my  men  not 
to  come  near  you  unless  there  was  danger.  I  hear 
their  steps  coming  down.  I'll  see  what  they  want." 

The   American   sleuth   disappears   into   the   dark- 


"SUSPECT    EVERYBODY!"  75 

ness,  going  up  from  the  landing  place,  while  Barnes 
and  Edwin  carefully  escort  their  charges  through 
the  gloom  down  the  little  steps  that  lead  to  the  boat. 
It  is  so  dark  that  it  is  now  a  matter  of  groping; 
and  some  little  time  is  occupied  in  carefully  trans 
ferring  the  ladies  to  the  stern  sheets  of  the  cutter. 
Here  their  hand  satchels  being  placed  beside  them, 
a  carriage  robe  is  carefully  tucked  by  Barnes  about 
Miss  Anstruther. 

Performing  a  like  service  for  his  wife,  Edwin 
seizes  the  tiller,  seats  himself  at  the  stern  and  re 
marks  comfortably :  "  Now  all's  shipshape !  As 
soon  as  your  sleuth  is  on  board  we'll  pull  out  to  the 
yacht."  Then  he  asks  one  of  the  two  oarsmen: 
"  Have  you  the  Seagull's  bearings?  " 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir.  She  is  lying  off  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  nigh  due  south  of  here.  A  braw  boat  she 
is,  yer  honour." 

"  All  right,"  says  Edwin,  examining  a  pocket 
compass  he  produces.  "  She  might  have  been  diffi 
cult  to  find  in  the  darkness  without  her  bearings. 
She's  a  light  up,  of  course?  " 

"  A  mast  head  anchor-glim,  sir,"  replies  the  man 
in  a  broad  Scotch  accent. 

Suddenly  Edwin  whispers  to  Barnes :  "  We've 
boarders !  "  and  springing  up,  seizes  a  boathook  and 
pushes  the  cutter  away  from  the  dock.  "  Pull  quick, 
my  men !  "  he  commands,  for  the  voice  of  the  Ameri- 


76  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

can  detective  rings  out  in  the  night  air :  "  Look  out 
for  yourselves !  "  and  they  hear  the  patter  of  feet  in 
the  darkness  running  down  the  walk  mingled  with  a 
couple  of  foreign  oaths. 

Next  there  is  a  splash  in  the  water  and  Barnes 
says,  coolly :  "  Hold  up  for  a  minute,  Edwin,"  and 
calls:  "Is  that  you,  Emory?" 

"  Yes,  thank  God !  "  answers  the  detective,  who  is 
swimming  after  them. 

"  Very  well,  if  anybody  jumps  over  after  you,  I 
think  I  can  catch  him  even  in  the  darkness."  The 
American's  pistol  is  in  his  hand. 

Twenty  seconds  after  they  drag  the  dripping 
sleuth  into  the  cutter. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  wait  for  now,"  says 
Emory,  spitting  out  some  salt  water.  "  Get  me  to 
the  yacht  where  I  can  find  dry  clothes  of  some  kind." 

At  this,  Edwin  orders  the  men  to  give  way,  which 
the  two  Scotch  sailors  do  with  alacrity,  one  calling: 
"  Pull  wi'  a  will,  Jibbie,  the  chiels  ashore  '11  be  burn- 
in'  poudre  on  us." 

"  By  the  blessing  of  God,  you  all  had  a  mighty 
narrow  escape,"  remarks  Emory,  his  voice  quiver 
ing.  "  Though  how  the  deuce  the  men  who  are 
after  potting  you  took  the  places  of  the  Parlez-vous 
I  hired  to  guard  you,  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  It's 
lucky  I  remembered  I'd  told  'em  not  to  come  near 
you  unless  there  was  trouble.  When  I  heard  the 


"SUSPECT    EVERYBODY!"  77 

approaching  steps,  I  reckoned  there  must  be  danger. 
I  went  straight  to  'em  and  by  gum,  they  jumped 
me.  Half  a  second  and  I  was  a  dead  man." 

At  this  there  is  a  fluttering  cry  from  Miss  An- 
struther,  and  Edwin  says :  "  Don't  grab  my  steer 
ing  arm  so  frantically,  Marina." 

The  detective  pauses. 

"  Just  as  well  go  on,"  remarks  Barnes.  "  The 
ladies  must  know  their  danger;  it  is  well  they  know 
the  whole  of  it." 

"  At  my  cry  of  terror,"  continues  Emory,  "  the 
dagger  that  was  right  over  my  breast  was  stayed, 
and  one  of  them  snarls :  '  Diavolo,  this  isn't  the  ac 
cursed  murderer,  Barnes  of  New  York.'  Then  they 
whispered  some  words  to  me  that  I  don't  care  about 
repeating  before  the  ladies  and  one  of  them  held  the 
knife  over  me  and  the  other  sneaked  down  towards 
you,  but  was  too  late.  You  had  already  got  the 
girls  into  the  boat,  I  reckon.  He  came  back.  They 
cursed  me  and  let  me  go.  But  when  they  saw  I  was 
scooting  down  the  wharf,  they  started  after  me,  so 
I  jumped  into  the  water  and  made  the  boat.  They 
are  cursing  themselves  now,  I  guess,  for  letting  me 
get  away  to  warn  you." 

"  Well,  they'll  hardly  dare  to  follow  us  on  board 
the  yacht,"  smiles  Barnes,  for  Edwin  has  hailed: 
"  Seagull,  ahoy ! "  to  some  vessel  looming  up  in  the 
fog. 


78  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Aye,  aye,"  comes  the  reply,  and  a  moment  later 
the  naval  officer  has  laid  the  boat  alongside  of  the 
yacht,  from  which  a  side  ladder  has  been  put  over. 

"  This  is  Andrew  Graham,  the  mate,"  says 
Emory,  as  an  alert  young  Scotchman  assists  the 
ladies  to  the  deck  of  the  fleet  little  seagoing  pleasure 
craft  from  whose  cabin  a  cheerful  gleam  issues. 

"  You  want  to  get  into  dry  clothes,"  remarks  Bur 
ton.  "  We'll  discuss  this  affair  a  little  further  after 
we  have  had  dinner,  which  I  imagine  is  prepared." 

"  Yes,  right  in  the  cabin  there,  and  a  good  one !  " 
replies  the  detective,  whose  spirits  have  risen  at  the 
thought  of  the  meal. 

Five  minutes  later,  Emory  having  gone  forward 
and  procured  a  change  of  togs  from  the  mate,  they 
all  sit  down  in  the  little  cabin,  which  is  brilliantly 
lighted  and  its  table  beautifully  set  with  crystal  and 
china,  even  some  fresh  flowers  adorning  it. 

"  You've  done  everything  mighty  nice,  Emory," 
says  Barnes,  genially,  to  the  detective,  "  and  I  hope 
your  wetting  hasn't  destroyed  your  appetite." 

"  Not  a  bite,"  answers  the  American  representa 
tive  of  Pinkertons'. 

"  Why  doesn't  Edwin  come  down  ?  "  whispers 
Marina,  nervously. 

"  Oh,  he's  skipper  now,"  replies  Burton.  "  He's 
making  all  shipshape  with  Mr.  Graham  and  getting 
under  way." 


"SUSPECT    EVERYBODY!"  79 

The  noise  on  deck  indicates  this  is  quickly  done, 
for  the  yacht  has  been  lying  with  her  mainsail 
hoisted.  As  soon  as  the  anchor  has  broken  ground 
and  her  jibs  are  put  upon  her,  the  Seagull  is  in  mo 
tion  under  easy  sail. 

After  giving  the  mate,  who  seems  a  pleasant, 
quick  spoken,  intelligent  young  Scotchman,  his  di 
rections  as  to  the  course  and  bidding  him  keep  a 
good  lookout  for  steamers  coming  up  from  Naples, 
Nice  and  other  ports  to  the  eastward,  Edwin  joins 
the  party  at  table. 

"  She  is  a  mighty  handy  craft,"  says  the  young 
man.  "  I  have  tested  her  a  little  already." 

"  Ah,  your  British  tars  are  up  to  your  biz,"  re 
marks  Emory. 

"  Well,  an  officer  in  the  English  navy  should  be 
able  to  sail  anything,"  answers  Anstruther,  "  though 
I  don't  suppose  I'm  quite  as  familiar  with  canvas 
as  one  of  the  old-day  fellows  who  never  had  any 
thing  but  sheets  and  halyards  and  '  trim  sails  '  and 
'  look  out  for  lee  shores '  in  the  days  of  Nelson. 
You  see,  though  we  are  taught  seamanship  and 
practise  it  when  youngsters,  duty  on  the  deck  of  an 
iron-clad  has  no  more  to  do  with  handling  canvas 
than  if  you  were  trying  to  navigate  a  railway  train." 

With  this,  Lieutenant  Anstruther,  after  a  glance 
at  his  bride,  remarks :  "  Now,  with  a  deck  under 
my  feet,  I  feel  shipshape  and  ready  for  either  pi- 


80  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

rates  or  land  sharks,"  and  so  devotes  himself  with  a 
sailor  appetite  to  a  plate  of  creme  d'asperge,  a  de 
licious  sole  with  shrimp  sauce  and  afterward  a  filet 
mignon  with  fresh  mushrooms.  Delicate  little  con 
fections  and  ices  as  well  as  some  magnificent  fruit 
are  put  upon  the  table  afterwards  by  the  steward, 
whose  fiery  red  hair  and  decided  Scotch  twang  in 
dicate  he  comes  from  the  North  of  the  Tay. 

"  Altogether,"  Enid  contentedly  remarks,  "  it  is 
about  as  good  a  dinner  as  one  could  get  at  the  best 
restaurant  in  Paris." 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  gentlemen  go  on  deck 
to  smoke  their  cigars.  Edwin  takes  his  stand  beside 
his  Scotch  mate,  saying :  "  We'll  take  it  watch  and 
watch,  Graham,  until  the  morning,"  and  sends  the 
young  fellow  below  to  turn  in. 

The  two  ladies  are  busily  making  their  arrange 
ments  in  the  cabin.  The  schooner  has  a  main  salon, 
which  is  used  as  a  dining-room,  and  two  little  quar 
ter  staterooms,  one  of  which  is  assigned  to  Edwin 
and  his  bride,  the  other  to  Miss  Anstruther. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  detective  and 
Barnes  have  a  chance  for  private  conversation. 
They  stroll  amidships  and  seat  themselves  beside  one 
of  the  boats.  The  foresail  not  being  set,  they  have 
no  boom  to  dodge  when  the  vessel  comes  about, 
which  is  perhaps  well,  as  the  conversation  takes  a 
turn  that  makes  even  Burton  forget  where  he  is. 


"SUSPECT    EVERYBODY!"  81 

"  How  shall  I  put  you  on  shore?  "  says  Barnes. 

"  Well,  in  an  hour  more  we'll  be  off  Bandol,  I 
reckon,  and  if  you'll  tell  Edwin  to  drop  in  to  the 
shore  a  little,  you  can  put  me  off  in  one  of  the 
boats." 

"  All  right,"  replies  Burton,  and  speaking  to 
Anstruther,  the  yacht's  course  is  changed. 

"  When  you  are  ashore,  you'll  get  the  railway,  I 
suppose,  to  Marseilles.  Pay  my  hotel  bill  at  the 
Grand  there  and  remember  to  meet  me  at  Nice  at 
the  time  appointed." 

Here  the  detective  dismays  his  American  em 
ployer  ;  he  drawls  slowly :  "  Y-e-s,  but  I'd  like  to 
give  up  this  matter !  " 

"  Give  up  this  matter?  " 

"  Why,  cert !  When  that  Corsican  had  his  knife 
over  my  heart  he  said  a  few  words  of  warning,  tell 
ing  me  to  look  out  how  I  got  into  a  blood  feud ;  that 
this  matter  was  to  the  death,  and  if  I  wanted  to  live 
I  had  better  leave  it  alone." 

"You're  frightened  of  the  man?"  asks  Barnes, 
almost  sneeringly. 

"  No,  not  exactly  frightened,  but  mighty  cautious 
of  him,"  replies  the  Yankee,  in  an  impressed  tone, 
"  for  a  fellow  who  can  fix  it  so  that  my  two  French 
sleuths  were  thrown  off  the  track  and  he  and  his  pal 
took  their  very  places  and  rode  behind  your  car 
riage  unsuspected  and  only  by  God's  mercy  were 


82  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

prevented  from  jumping  you  and  doing  you  up  as 
you  placed  the  ladies  in  the  boat  is  a  man  whose 
brains  make  him  mighty  dangerous." 

"  Not  dangerous  enough  to  cause  you  to  desert 
these  ladies  in  their  extremity.  You,  an  American 
— I  have  been  told  you  have  a  very  good  nerve." 

"  Yes,  but  this  kind  of  an  assassinating  in  the 
gloom  biz  is  mighty  ticklish — however,  I'll  go  you 
again,"  returns  the  detective,  after  a  few  more  whiffs 
of  his  cigar.  "  I'll  risk  it  once  more  for  the  sake 
of  the  lovely  creature  whom  you  squint  at  as  if  she 
was  the  apple  of  your  eye,  and  she  looks  at  you 
haughty  as  a  sales-lady  does  at  a  cash  boy — what 
have  you  done  to  rile  her,  young  man  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Barnes  is  about  to  resent  the  easy 
familiarity  of  Emory's  comment  upon  his  courtship, 
then  the  thought  that  this  man  is  probably  risking 
his  life  for  him  makes  him  more  affable.  "  Enid's 
displeasure  arises  from  my  taking  your  advice,"  he 
says  shortly.  "  Miss  Anstruther  resents  my  post 
poning  my  marriage  with  her.  But,  as  you  sug 
gested,  with  this  damnable  threat  in  my  pocket  I 
cannot  draw  any  woman  into  this  blood  feud." 

"  You're  right  there,"  answers  the  detective, 
"  with  such  a  crafty  devil  agin  you,  what  you  want 
to  do  is  to  suspect  everybody.  You  see  you  cannot 
be  sure  where  such  a  snaky  fellow  will  strike  you.  If 
it  hadn't  been  for  me  fortunately  walking  up  that 


"SUSPECT    EVERYBODY!"  83 

path  wondering  why  my  men  came  down  to  you, 
they  would  have  been  upon  you  while  you  were  put 
ting  the  ladies  in  your  boat,  and  would  have  had 
some  of  you  sure.  I  know  you  can  shoot  quick  and 
straight,  but  knives  at  close  quarters  are  better  than 
revolvers,  especially  in  the  darkness.  You  can  bless 
God  for  having  saved  you  to-night.  Suspect 
everyone !  " 

"  Suspect  everyone !  "  Barnes  mutters  to  himself 
and  turns  his  eyes  about  upon  the  deck  as  he  speaks. 

"  Oh,  they're  all  safe  here — those  bra'  Scotch 
sailor  laddies.  You  saw  the  mate,  he  is  Scotch  also- 
and  can  be  trusted.  If  you'll  put  me  on  shore,  I'll 
be  at  that  villa  at  Nice  ready  to  tell  you  everything 
when  you  make  it.  Don't  you  think  the  lady — I 
mean  Anstruther's  wife — could  stand  a  voyage  to 
England  through  the  Bay  of  Biscay?"  The  de 
tective's  voice  shows  how  anxious  he  is  that  his  sug 
gestion  be  taken. 

"  As  a  physician,  I  don't  think  she  could,"  re 
marks  Barnes.  "  You  see  her  neurotic  state  has 
been  added  to  by  the  attack  upon  us  at  the  landing. 
It  is  not  her  fears  for  herself,  but  her  fears  for  her 
husband.  Did  you  notice  how  nervous  she  was  be 
fore  he  came  down  to  us  at  dinner — even  though  we 
could  hear  his  voice  on  the  deck  ?  " 

They  are  now  interrupted  by  Edwin.  "  The 
lights  over  there  are  those  of  Bandol.  We're  in  ten 


84  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

fathoms  of  water.  I  don't  want  to  venture  in  any 
further  at  night."  Then  the  voice  of  the  young 
English  officer  rings  out,  ordering  to  cutter  to  be 
lowered  and  manned. 

"  I  go  with  you  as  far  as  the  shore,"  says 
Barnes. 

"  No,  you  stay  with  the  ladies,"  whispers  Emory. 
"  That's  what  you  want  to  look  after.  You're  the 
point  of  danger  now.  I'll  only  suffer  if  I  get  too 
nigh  to  you."  As  the  Pinkerton  man  goes  over  the 
side,  he  whispers  again  to  Barnes :  "  Suspect  every 
body — even  your  own  emotions  and  doings,  and  es 
pecially  those  of  the  women  with  that  crafty  cuss 
who  had  his  dagger  so  cursed  near  my  heart,  work 
ing  on  them." 

"  Could  you  recognise  the  man  ?  "  asks  Burton 
eagerly. 

"  Hardly,  but  in  the  struggle  my  hand  caught 
his  face,  and  I  felt  a  scar  over  his  left  eye." 

"  Great  Scott !  "  ej  aculates  the  American.  He  is 
now  certain  it  is  Corregio  Cipriano  Danella  who  is 
bent  upon  revenge  for  the  blood  of  his  dead  brother. 

As  the  Yankee  detective  is  rowed  away,  Barnes 
paces  the  deck. 

The  night  is  very  fine,  though  extremely  dark, 
and  they  being  near  the  land,  somewhat  misty.  The 
yacht's  lights,  however,  burn  brightly  and  a  care 
ful  lookout  is  kept.  Barnes  thinks  he  has  little  fear 


"SUSPECT    EVERYBODY!"  85 

from  the  sea  while  the  vessel  is  in  command  of  Ed 
win  Anstruther.  Still  the  detective's  last  warning, 
"  Suspect  everybody !  "  lingers  in  his  mind. 

Some  remarks  from  the  ladies  in  the  cabin  indi 
cate  that  they  are  not  coming  on  deck  this  evening. 

"  You  can  wager  your  grog  money,  Barnes,  you'd 
be  happier  if  you'd  spliced  before  taking  this 
cruise,"  observes  Anstruther,  sotto  voce  to  his 
friend.  "  You'd  have  a  bride  with  you,  like  me. 
Now,  no  danger  of  pirates  boarding  us,  Marina  and 
I  can  forget  care  for  a  few  days  in — in  love." 

"  You  may,  I  cannot,"  remarks  Burton,  grimly. 

"Ah,  Enid's  a  little  offish,  is  she?  Won't  come 
up  even  and  say  good-night,"  grins  the  sailor. 
"  Didn't  like  your  not  accepting  what  was  offered 
you,  eh?  When  you  get  a  chance  take  it,  my  hearty, 
especially  with  girls.  Now  if  you'd  hunted  up  the 
minister,  as  I  recommended  to-day,  you  wouldn't 
have  to  stow  yourself  away  on  the  cabin  settee  to 
night." 

This  sea-dog  suggestion  is  so  disquieting  that 
poor  Burton  paces  the  deck  and  sighs :  "  By 
Heaven,  I  must  get  this  out  of  my  mind!  I  must 
think  only  of  the  safety  of  these  helpless  girls  that 
are  now  assailed  by  that  crafty  Corsican  with  the 
scar  over  his  face,  Corregio  Cipriano  Danella,  he 
who  must  have  sent  this  letter  that  cuts  me  off  from 
being  the  husband  of  the  woman  I  love  until  I  have 


86  MR.    BARNES,   AMERICAN 

put  him  under  the  ground.  When  I  shoot  at  that 
gentleman,  God  help  him,  it  will  be  to  kill." 

The  boat  has  now  returned. 

As  the  men  scramble  on  deck,  Edwin  demands: 
"  Did  you  put  your  passenger  on  shore  at  Bandol?  " 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,  but  the  loon  went  up  the  dock  as 
cautious  as  if  he  feared  land  sharks." 

This  revives  in  Barnes's  mind  Emory's  warning, 
"  Suspect  everybody !  " 

The  vessel  is  soon  under  way  again.  He  paces 
the  deck  smoking  his  cigar  and  thinking :  "  No 
one  can  board  us  in  all  probability  unobserved.  We 
are  safe  here  with  the  Scotch  crew  and  the  Scotch 
mate."  Suddenly  the  cigar  drops  from  Barnes's 
fingers ;  with  a  start  he  mutters  to  himself :  "  By 
Heaven,  no  Scotchman  ever  concocted  that  -filet  mi- 
gnon  and  that  creme  d'asperge.  There's  one  man  on 
this  boat  I  must  keep  my  eye  upon." 

"  Thinking  of  land  sharks,"  laughs  Anstruther, 
slapping  him  on  the  back. 

"  No,"  answers  Barnes,  shortly,  "  I  was  meditat 
ing  on  our  French  cook!  " 


CHAPTER  V 

"  FOR  THE  LOVE  OF  HEAVEN  DON*T  KILL  THE  COOK  !  " 

To  this  rather  astonishing  announcement  the  young 
English  naval  officer  says :  "  By  Jove,  the  beggar 
did  give  us  a  good  dinner." 

"  Too  good !  "   remarks  Barnes,  gloomily. 

"  You  wouldn't  say  that,"  replies  Edwin,  "  if  you 
had  been  knocking  round  the  Orient  on  wardroom 
commons  for  the  last  year.  What  do  you  mean  by 
'  too  good  '?  No  cook  is  too  good." 

"  And  yet  I'd  feel  easier,"  is  Burton's  comment, 
"  if  the  fellow  had  given  us  lob-scouse,  plum-duff, 
roast-beef  and  dishes  a  plain  Johnny  Bull  cook  would 
have  been  apt  to  concoct.  In  this  very  important 
matter  of  the  lives  of  those  ladies  below — not  to  men 
tion  our  own  unworthy  selves — I  don't  propose  to 
blindly  trust  anyone  with  foreign  associations.  They 
may  be  all  right,  and  they  may  not.  So  I'm  going 
to  investigate  this  fellow,  even  if  his  cuisine  makes 
you  roll  your  nautical  eyes  and  smack  your  naval 
lips." 

"  If  you  find  anything  suspicious  about  him,"  re 
plies  Anstruther,  grimly,  "  I'll  put  him  ashore  if  he 
can  make  salt  horse  taste  like  broiled  chicken." 

87 


88  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Acting  on  this,  by  a  few  deft  questions  to  the 
members  of  the  watch  on  deck,  Barnes  discovers  that 
the  nautical  chef's  name  is  Felix  Leboeuf.  "  That's 
as  I  twang  it,"  remarks  Gillie,  who  is  standing  at 
the  wheel  giving  him  the  information.  "  Coswhite, 
Mr.  Jamieson's  regular  cook,  went  along  with  him  to 
the  auld  country,  and  this  chiel  only  come  aboard 
to-day  to  take  his  place  i'  the  galley." 

"  Hum,  a  new  arrival?" 

"  Aye,  sir,  and  the  men  dinna  like  him  o'er  muckle. 
Thae  loon  puts  garlic  i'  th'  lob-scouse." 

At  this  Barnes  laughs  slightly,  strolls  forward 
and  takes  a  look  into  the  cook's  galley.  The  fires 
are  out  and  the  regular  snoring  that  issues  from  it 
shows  the  Frenchman  is  asleep  upon  his  cook  chest. 
"I  don't  think  I'll  trouble  him  to-night,"  sleepily 
thinks  the  American,  hesitating  to  disturb  the  rest 
of  an  artist  who  had  given  him  such  a  dinner,  "  but 
to-morrow  morning  I'll  have  a  chat  with  Monsieur 
of  the  dishpans." 

The  next  morning  the  sun  rises  brightly  on  the 
Mediterranean ;  its  waves  are  silver.  The  yacht's 
course  during  the  night  has  placed  the  little  pleas 
ure  craft  well  out  upon  the  open  sea,  Corsica  to  the 
southeast  of  her. 

Apparently,  the  night's  rest  has  increased  the 
ladies'  vivacity  and  the  certainty  of  no  danger  be 
ing  near  them  has  improved  their  spirits. 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!"  89 

"  Everybody  hungry,  I  hope ! "  cries  Barnes 
cheerfully,  notwithstanding  his  greeting  from  his 
fiancee  has  been  rather  formal  as  they  sit  down  to  a 
delightful  breakfast  sent  in  by  the  artist  of  the 
galley  and  served  by  the  Scotch  steward. 

"  As  sharks !  "  answers  Edwin,  taking  his  place 
as  skipper  at  the  head  of  the  table.  "  This  beef 
steak  makes  me  think  I'm  gazing  at  Pall  Mall  from 
the  Army  and  Navy  Club." 

Apparently  the  pleasant  meal  produces  almost 
frivolity  in  Miss  Anstruther;  she  cries  enthusiastic 
ally  :  "  And  coffee  with  the  aroma  of  Mocha,  and 
this  omelette  aux  truffes  worthy  of  the  Maison 
Dore !  I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  Paris.  We  have  a  great 
man  in  the  galley,  my  brother." 

"  Yes,  the  fellow  forward  could  put  appetite  into 
anyone,"  assents  Barnes,  assisting  Edwin  to  do  duty 
on  the  beefsteak. 

"  If  we  could  arrange  that  we  run  about  from  one 
little  harbour  to  another,  I  think  the  cruise  could 
be  made  quite  enjoyable,"  remarks  Enid,  struggling 
to  be  vivacious,  but,  catching  an  abrupt  gleam  of 
passion  in  her  betrothed's  face,  her  eyes  that  might 
even  now  have  been  his  bride's  eyes,  grow  suddenly 
haughty,  though  the  young  lady's  fair  lips  emit 
some  hidden  sighs  as  she  attempts  the  remainder  of 
her  breakfast. 

Some  little  time  after,  chancing  to  glance  up  from 


90  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

his  work  with  his  knife,  the  sailor  husband  stays 
his  eating  as  he  places  honeymoon  eyes  upon  his 
bride.  For  Marina  is  asking  nervously :  "  Any 
signs  of  pursuit  during  the  night?" 

"Pursuit?"  sneers  the  tar.  "Do  you  think  our 
friend  Cipriano  Danella  has  a  couple  of  revenue 
cutters  in  commission  to  run  us  down?  The  Seagull 
is  quick  enough  to  show  her  heels  to  most  sailing 
craft.  Besides,  how  can  he  tell  what  course  we've 
taken?  All  he  can  know  is  that  we  embarked  on 
some  vessel  off  the  Roucas  Blanc  last  evening.  We 
may  have  gone  to  Naples;  we  may  be  on  our  way 
down  the  Spanish  Coast  to  round  the  Rock  of  Gib 
raltar,  and  sail  the  Bay  of  Biscay  to  England.  On 
the  water  we  are  safe.  When  we  land,  the  climax 
of  this  affair  begins."  Then  the  sailor  suddenly 
exclaims :  "  My  Heavens,  what's  the  matter,  dear 
one?  "  for  at  her  husband's  last  suggestion,  Marina, 
though  she  utters  no  word,  has  grown  of  a  sickly 
pallor,  and  the  knife  and  fork,  with  which  she  has 
been  dallying,  have  slipped  from  her  trembling 
fingers. 

"  Nothing,"  stammers  the  bride,  hiding  her  face 
from  his  glance  by  picking  up  her  table  implements, 
"  only  I  am  not  a  very  good  sailor,  therefore  this 
delightful  cuisine  has  no  charm  for  me." 

As  the  young  Corsican  lady  rises  from  the  table 
the  English  girl  gets  up  also ;  she  seems  to  be  anx- 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!"  91 

ious  to  end  her  contiguity  to  a  betrothed  whose 
reproachful  glances  at  her  cold  and  rather  haughty 
face  have  grown  embarrassing. 

"  Would  that  I  dared  to  take  Marina  over  the 
surges  of  the  Atlantic  to  England,"  mutters  the 
young  husband  moodily,  as  Enid  and  his  spouse 
disappear  into  their  staterooms.  Then  he  suddenly 
whispers :  "  Barnes — you  noticed  her  sudden  pal 
lor — don't  fear  to  tell  me — as  a  medical  man,  you 
are  sure  my  darling  has  no  organic  affection?  " 

"  I  have  told  you  a  dozen  times  she  is  as  sound 
as  a  new  dollar,"  answers  the  American. 

"  But  her  timidity?  When  I  first  met  her  in 
Egypt,  and  until  that  awful  wedding  night  in  Cor 
sica,  she  was  courage  itself." 

"  So  she  is  now,  as  to  herself!  It  is  for  you  she 
fears.  Her  gentle  heart  beats  only  for  you.  What 
you  said  about  the  climax  of  this  accursed  affair 
coming  when  we  landed  again,  must  have  in  some 
way  struck  a  blow  upon  her  nervous  system." 

About  this  time  the  mate,  Mr.  Graham,  puts  his 
head  down  the  companionway  and  announces  that 
Frenchy,  the  cook,  is  jabbering  for  something  that 
none  of  them  can  make  out — some  folderol  or  other 
for  his  work. 

This  gives  Barnes  the  opportunity  that  he  wishes 
of  examining  the  only  foreigner  on  board.  He  steps 
up  the  companion  ladder  and  strolls  forward.  Mon- 


92  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

sieur  Leboeuf,  a  dapper  little  Frenchman  in  im 
maculate  white  apron  and  cook's  cap,  his  moustache 
bristling  ferociously  and  his  black  eyes  blazing,  is 
savagely  smoking  a  cigar  outside  his  galley. 
Barnes  offers  him  a  cigarette  and  thanks  him  for  the 
two  delightful  meals  he  has  furnished  them. 

"  Ah,  you  speak  a  little  French,"  cries  the  little 
Gaul.  "  C'est  magnifique!  Not  a  man  understands 
ven  I  demand  ze  implements  of  my  art." 

"  But  you  have  been  on  English  yachts  before?  " 
remarks  the  American,  diplomatically. 

"  Mais,  oui,  vith  my  Lord  Edgarton  and  vith 
Monsieur  Ogilvie,  ze  Scotch.  They  had  ze  big 
steamboats.  Their  stewards  spoke  ze  language  of 
la  belle  France.  But  on  zis  leetle  vessel  no  one 
understands  ven  from  zem  I  demand  ze  proper  im 
plements  of  my  profession,  so  at  once  I  must  be  put 
on  shore  to  buy  une  couloir e.  Comprenez?  If  it 
is  not  to  me,  I  cannot  steam  the  ponding  a  VAngais, 
my  masterpiece." 

Mr.  Barnes  discovers  that  Leboeuf  wishes  a 
colander. 

"  All  right,  you  want  some  holes  in  a  tin  pan." 
The  pistol  shot  steps  into  the  galley.  "Will  this 
one  do  ?  " 

A  moment  after  he  has  climbed  out  and  hung  it 
on  the  end  of  the  main  boom  which  runs  well  out 
over  the  stern  of  the  schooner.  Producing  his  re- 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!"  QS 

volver  and  standing  amidship,  the  American  calls 
out  to  the  ladies  below  not  to  be  frightened  at  the 
reports  as  he  is  going  in  for  pistol  practice.  Then 
he  makes  the  tin  pan  his  target  and  very  shortly  the 
Frenchman  is  screaming  in  astonishment :  "  Diable, 
an  artist  vith  ze  shoot !  Sacre  bleu,  my  initials, 
F.  L.,  in  round  holes  all  in  ze  bottom." 

"  Might  as  well  keep  my  hand  in,"  thinks  Mr. 
Barnes,  and  forthwith  gives  an  exhibition  of  marks 
manship  that  causes  the  crew  to  cheer.  He  smashes 
bottles  flung  helter  skelter  in  the  air  by  the  Jack- 
tars  and  puts  bullets  through  potatoes  tossed  on 
high.  Finally  he  tacks  a  playing  card  on  the  tip 
of  the  bowsprit  and  shoots  the  spots  out  of  it. 

"  This  will  be  a  warning  to  this  dishpan  artist, 
who  is  the  only  man  of  the  crew  of  whom  I  feel  a 
doubt,  not  to  make  me  shoot  at  him,"  cogitates  the 
marksman,  grimly. 

But  his  exploits  with  the  pistol  seem  to  enthuse 
the  Frenchman,  rather  than  dismay  him.  In  his 
excited  Latin  way,  Leboeuf  shouts  louder  than  any 
one  on  deck  and  fairly  screams  with  Gallic  enthusi 
asm  as  Barnes  winds  up  by  placing  a  card  on  edge 
and  spitting  it  with  his  unerring  bullet. 

"  del,  monsieur  is  a  marvel,"  jabbers  the  cook. 
Then  he  suddenly  laughs  in  Barnes's  face  and  ex 
claims  :  "  Mon  Dieu,  if  monsieur  shooted  at  a  man  ? 
Diable,  no  mutiny  in  zis  crew ! " 


94,  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Little  of  this  has  been  witnessed  by  the  ladies,  but 
Miss  Anstruther  chancing  to  come  on  deck  at  the 
close  of  the  exhibition,  Mr.  Barnes  explains  the 
matter  to  her  and  she  soon  after  sets  him  to  think 
ing  by  strolling  forward  and  shortly  observing  to 
him  that  half  a  dozen  pans  in  the  galley  are  capable 
of  being  used  for  steamers;  so  the  cook  need  not 
have  made  such  an  ado  about  the  matter. 

Later  on  Monsieur  Leboeuf  sets  Mr.  Barnes  to 
thinking  again.  He  makes  his  appearance  and  de 
mands  determinedly  that  the  yacht  anchor  off  some 
landing  where  they  can  obtain  fresh  ice. 

"  Nonsense !  "  dissents  the  American.  "  Emory 
told  me  enough  was  put  on  board  yesterday  to  last 
for  several  days." 

"  Then  Monsieur  has  been  robbed  by  ze  ice-man," 
answers  the  Frenchman.  "  If  monsieur  vil  observe," 
he  leads  the  way  to  his  galley,  which  connects  with 
the  vessel's  ice-chest.  Opening  this,  he  remarks: 
"  Ze  cold  storage,  it  has  all  run  out.  Ver  is  it? 
Gone!  Voila,  not  enough  for  ices  ce  soir;  not 
enough  to  f rappe  ze  champagne ;  not  enough  to  pre 
serve  ze  legumes  and  ze  beurre." 

Barnes  discovers  that  what  Leboeuf  tells  him  is 
correct.  During  this  hot  weather  ice  is  absolutely 
an  essential.  After  a  short  consultation  with  Edwin, 
Anstruther  grumblingly  sets  the  Seagull's  course 
for  the  French  Coast. 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!"  95 

Three  hours  before  sunset  they  anchor  in  the 
little  harbour  of  St.  Tropez.  Looking  at  the  retired 
old  French  seaport,  Edwin  remarks :  "  I  don't  think 
there's  much  danger  of  these  Corsican  assassins  dis 
covering  us  in  this  out-of-the-way  place  for  a  few 
hours,"  and  sends  the  dingy  on  shore  carrying  Mon 
sieur  Leboeuf  and  directing  him  to  make  the  neces 
sary  purchases  and  bring  them  off  at  once. 

"  We'll  keep  the  ladies  safe  on  board,  and  no 
shore-boats  shall  come  alongside,"  says  the  skipper. 

But  a  few  minutes  after,  Barnes  suddenly  re 
marks  that  he  wants  some  more  cartridges  for  his 
pistols,  and  obtaining  the  cutter,  is  rapidly  rowed 
to  the  landing  and  disappears  in  the  Sixteenth  Cen 
tury  architecture  of  the  town. 

Consequently,  when  Marina  and  Enid  come  on 
deck,  the  latter  discovers  her  swain  is  absent  and,  be 
ing  now  inclined  to  find  fault  with  her  gallant,  pouts 
mentally :  "  Burton  might  have  asked  if  I'd  like  a 
run  on  shore  also." 

But  both  boats  being  now  at  the  landing,  the 
ladies  are  compelled  to  spend  their  time  rather  mo 
notonously  looking  at  the  picturesque  little  port, 
though  Marina  does  little  of  this.  The  very  sight 
of  France  seems  in  some  occult  manner  to  affright 
the  beautiful  woman  as  she  leans  upon  her  husband's 
arm.  To  him  she  whispers,  nervously :  "  Will  we  get 
to  Nice  to-day?" 


96  MR.    BARNES,   AMERICAN 

"  Not  with  this  wind,"  remarks  Edwin.  To  this 
he  adds,  suddenly :  "  Dear  one,  you  seem  afraid  of 
that  place." 

"  Not  while  I  have  you  by  my  side,"  she  answers, 
ambiguously ;  and  clings  more  tightly  to  his  arm. 

During  this,  Miss  Anstruther,  rather  moodily 
with  a  marine  glass  inspects  the  neighbouring  fish 
ing  boats  in  the  roadstead,  some  of  these  seagoing 
craft.  Among  them  is  one  whose  graceful  lateen 
rig  attracts  the  English  girl's  attention.  Having 
little  else  to  do  but  to  admire  the  almost  mediaeval 
fortress  on  the  hill  with  the  modern  batteries  around 
it  and  the  distant  statue  of  De  Suffren  on  the  quay, 
the  young  lady  several  times  puts  her  binocular 
upon  the  lateen-rigged  fishing  boat,  and  in  the 
course  of  two  hours'  weary  waiting,  becomes  quite 
familiar  with  its  graceful  outlines  and  rig. 

About  this  time  Barnes  returns  in  the  cutter  and 
is  not  overgraciously  welcomed  by  his  fiancee,  who, 
though  generally  level-headed,  has  now  nursed  the 
slight  that  she  conceives  her  love  and  trust  had  re 
ceived  yesterday,  into  a  fervid  jealousy  under  which 
each  unintentional  omission  of  service  in  her  be 
trothed  is  an  additional  offence. 

Together  they  pass  a  tiresome  hour  till  Leboeuf 
makes  his  appearance  in  the  dingy. 

"Why  in  the  dickens  weren't  you  off  before?" 
Anstruther  calls  out  to  the  cook;  and  the  great  culi- 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!"  97 

nary  artist  ascends  the  side  ladder  jabbering  an 
almost  piteous  tale  of  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  ice, 
fresh  meats  and  vegetables  at  this  time  of  the  even 
ing  in  this  dead  and  alive  town.  "  But  I  am  happy 
to  say,"  he  favours  the  ladies  with  an  effusive  bow, 
"  I  have  obtained  zat  which  under  my  art  vil  become 
meals  worthy  of  even  zeir  attention  for  several 
days." 

To  this  Edwin  gives  slight  heed.  He  is  in  a 
hurry  to  make  an  offing  before  darkness  sets  in,  and 
already  has  the  dingy  hoisted  up,  has  broken  ground 
with  his  anchor  and  the  Seagull  is  under  way. 

As  they  round  the  Cap  des  Salins,  Enid,  who  is 
still  using  the  marine  glass,  though  it  is  now  grow 
ing  dusk,  notices  that  the  lateen-rigged  fishing  boat 
has  hoisted  sail  also,  and  apparently  being  a  very 
swift  craft,  is  following  them  rapidly. 

That  evening,  Monsieur  Leboeuf  sustains  his 
reputation  as  a  culinary  artist.  In  addition,  he 
has  obtained  some  beautiful  violets  and  graciously 
stepped  in  himself  from  his  galley  to  arrange  them 
with  Gallic  taste  artistically  on  the  dining-room 
table  in  the  little  salon.  During  this,  the  petite 
cook,  being  a  dark-eyed,  romantic  and  ferocious  look 
ing  little  fellow,  attracts  very  favourable  attention 
from  the  ladies. 

Still,  though  the  champagne  is  cooled  to  a  nicety 
and  the  various  courses  are  as  delicious  as  they 


98  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

would  be  in  a  first-class  Parisian  cafe,  none  of  the 
yachting  party  enjoy  the  meal.  The  English  officer 
looks  with  wistful  glance  upon  his  bride,  and  notices 
that  her  spirits  have  drooped  rather  than  improved 
during  the  day.  Her  big  eyes  turn  from  his,  a 
far-away,  dreamy  misery  in  them,  but  once  or 
twice,  when  his  attention  is  called  from  her  by  the 
exigencies  of  the  meal,  her  grand  orbs  rest  on  her 
husband  filled  with  unconquerable  resolution  and 
devoted  self-sacrifice. 

Miss  Anstruther,  conversing  with  her  swain,  has 
graduated  from  aggressive  vivacity  during  soup 
and  fish  to  a  coldness  at  dessert,  equalling  the  ices 
she  is  eating. 

Fortunately  Barnes  is  too  occupied  with  certain 
mental  calculations  and  considerations  to  give  great 
heed  to  his  sweetheart's  eccentric  attacks,  though 
in  a  dejected,  abstracted  way  he  feels  them.  He  is 
cogitating:  "How  shall  we  best  make  Johnny  Cra- 
peau  innoxious?"  for  several  occurrences  ashore 
have  made  him  exceedingly  suspicious  of  Monsieur 
Lebceuf. 

Cigars  end  this  almost  uncanny  feast — the  Amer 
ican  goes  on  deck  to  smoke  his  and  Edwin,  puffing 
a  big  Imperial,  relieves  the  mate  in  his  charge  of 
the  vessel. 

As   for  the  ladies,  they   retire  early,   and   awake 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!"  99 

the  next  morning  to  find  the  vessel  floating  midway 
between  the  picturesque  cliffs  of  Monte  Carlo,  that 
are  hazy  in  the  distance,  and  the  mountains  of 
Northern  Corsica,  just  a  little  to  the  southeast. 

The  sun  is  bright  but  pleasant,  the  sea  smiling, 
the  light  breeze  like  the  breath  of  paradise.  The 
yacht's  deck  would  be  Heaven  to  the  charming 
women  and  gallant  men  who  lounge  under  its  sail 
ing  awning,  did  not  the  emotions  that  the  crafty 
communications  of  Cipriano  Danella  have  placed  in 
the  ladies'  hearts,  change  the  nautical  paradise  into 
a  nautical  Hades. 

After  breakfast,  of  which  everybody  eats  so  little 
that  Monsieur  Lebreuf,  gazing  upon  the  untouched 
viands,  utters  a  snort  of  rage.  Finding  his  lady  love 
still  cool  to  him,  Mr.  Barnes,  in  very  desperation, 
goes  to  shooting  again. 

The  crew,  anxious  to  see  his  skill,  toss  more 
bottles  into  the  air  and  throw  up  more  potatoes  for 
his  unerring  bullets,  and  every  time  the  American 
puts  a  pellet  into  one  of  them  he  wishes  sardonically 
it  was  the  heart  of  Cipriano  Danella.  This  seems 
to  make  his  aim  very  true ;  and  his  success  is  so 
astounding  that  the  crew  raise  a  cheer  as  he  puts 
one  bullet  through  two  potatoes  thrown  into  the  air 
at  the  same  time  as  they  cross  each  other  in  their 
flight. 


100  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

The  reports  of  his  pistol  floating  over  the  placid 
water  reach  a  considerable  distance.  At  all  events, 
they  and  the  cheer  excite  some  comment  on  a  little 
felucca  that  has  been  sailing  an  almost  parallel 
course;  apparently  a  very  fast  craft,  it  draws 
somewhat  nearer. 

Attracted  by  this,  Enid  turns  her  sharp  eyes 
from  the  pistol  shooting  she  has  been  watching 
languidly  and  suddenly  exclaims :  "  Why,  it's  the 
lateen-rigged  fishing  boat  we  saw  in  the  harbour  of 
St.  Tropez  yesterday  afternoon." 

"  Are  you  sure? "  asks  Barnes,  with  some  con 
cern  in  his  tone,  as  he  ceases  his  target  practice. 

"  Certain,"  replies  Edwin,  who  has  put  his  sailor 
eyes  upon  the  craft.  "  That  felucca's  got  a  pecu 
liar  cant  to  her  mainsail  I'd  know  anywhere."  To 
this  he  adds :  "  I  wonder  where's  she  bound,  to  the 
sardine  fishing  off  Cape  Corso?  " 

At  this  information  the  American  gazes  very  un 
pleasantly  toward  the  little  cook,  who  is  perched 
forward  beating  some  eggs  and  enjoying  the  exhi 
bition  of  marksmanship.  Soon  after  he  calls  Enid 
to  him  and  suggests :  "  You  used  to  do  pretty  well 
with  the  pistol  yourself,  young  lady,  at  Monte 
Carlo — you  recollect  ? "  He  reloads  his  revolver 
and  places  it  in  her  hand. 

"  After  your  exhibition  I  should  make  myself  a 
laughing  stock  to  the  crew,"  she  dissents,  coldly. 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!".         ;Vpi- 

"  You  may  need  to  use  this  wcap'oii  spm.G ,  d&yv' 
he  says  almost  sadly,  "  and  when  ypu  ido'1. '.'  *?>  ' 

"  Oh,  you  want  me  to  murder  somebody,"  she 
answers,  almost  frivolously;  and  the  young  lady 
carelessly  bangs  about  with  the  weapon,  making 
some  good  practice  on  a  floating  bottle.  Suddenly 
she  notes  that  it  is  the  very  pistol  that,  in  Monte 
Carlo  in  his  efforts  to  win  her  heart,  her  Burton  has 
taught  her  to  use.  At  the  tender  memories  of  that 
blessed  time  her  hand  trembles,  she  misses  an  easy 
shot  or  two,  passes  him  the  revolver  and  wanders 
sorrowfully  toward  the  taffrail.  Her  beautiful  eyes 
fill  with  tears. 

'Tis  only  forty-eight  brief  hours  since  they  ar 
rived  at  Marseilles  and  were  so  close  together.  How 
eager  her  lover  had  been  to  possess  her;  they  were 
to  be  wedded  in  three  short  days.  A  few  hours 
later  he  had  practically  refused  immediate  nup 
tials.  Against  this,  her  pride  is  always  flying  up 
haughtily,  uncompromisingly.  She  will  punish  the 
procrastinator  who  does  not  value  her  sufficiently. 
Girl-like,  she  doesn't  stay  to  ask  herself  the  reason 
for  which  this  man  who  had  seemed  so  devoted  to 
her  had  postponed  the  wedding.  Like  Calypso  she 
tries  to  show  the  unfortunate  Barnes  what  vivid  bliss 
he  has  declined.  This,  the  devil  aiding  her,  she 
does  with  the  sweetest  diabolical  tact.  Turning  to 
the  gentleman  she  is  to  torture,  she  says,  sweetly: 


MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Burton,  are  you  not  going  to  get  me  a  deck 
chair?  "  $,nd  .inveigling  her  fiance  to  her  side,  she 
displays  such  vivacious  charms  of  intellect,  such 
graces  of  manner,  such  tender  consideration,  that 
the  American  gazes  on  her  more  eager  than  ever,  if 
possible,  to  make  his  delightful  sweetheart  his  own. 

But  the  more  ardent  the  gentleman,  the  greater 
the  coolness,  ethereal,  intangible,  that  the  lady 
always  keeps  between  them,  all  the  while  tormenting 
her  betrothed's  very  soul  by  showing  how  passion 
ately  devoted  she  would  be  were  this  a  honeymoon 
dalliance. 

But  this  coquetry  becomes  too  humiliating  to  the 
high-spirited  girl.  She  rises  to  go  below.  Yet  at 
the  companionway,  she  tenders  her  swain  a  hand, 
looks  in  his  eyes  and  murmurs  in  subtle  cruelty: 
"  Burton,  in  Marseilles  I  thought  you  were  wrong 
in  postponing  our  nuptials,  but  perhaps  after  all 
it  is  better  to  know  each  other  more  profoundly  than 
we  did  in  our  short  two  months'  acquaintance.  So 
we  will  be  good  friends — till " 

"  Till  when  ?  "  mutters  Barnes,  hoarsely.  In  his 
passion  he  has  forgotten  the  awful  threat  pro 
claimed  against  the  woman  he  dares  to  make  his 
wife. 

His  betrothed's  light,  airy  laugh  almost  mocks 
him.  As  Miss  Anstruther  haughtily  glides  down 
to  her  stateroom,  the  beauties  of  her  spirited  face 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!"  105 

and  graces  of  her  superb  figure  made  a  vision  of 
loveliness  upon  which  the  American  gazes  very  much 
as  a  dog  after  a  vanishing  bone.  Pacing  the  deck, 
he  remembers,  and  curses  Cipriano  Danella  for  the 
devilish  document  that  rests  upon  his  breast  which 
separates  him  from  his  exquisite  fiancee  who  would 
have  been  his  wife  for  the  asking,  but  now — may 
never  be! 

This  doesn't  make  him  feel  merciful  to  anyone 
suspected  to  be  the  Corsican's  emissary  or  adherent. 
Barnes  begins  to  watch  like  a  cat  the  French  cook, 
who  is  now  cheerfully  making  a  ragout  for  the 
crew's  supper. 

The  party  in  the  cabin  dine — both  gentlemen 
now  apparently  with  some  weighty  matter  on  their 
minds.  His  wife  hears  Edwin  whisper  to  the  Amer 
ican  as  they  go  on  deck  from  the  dining-table :  "  I'll 
take  a  look  for  the  felucca — the  beggars  came  about 
as  soon  as  we  did  off  Cape  Corso." 

Anything  that  suggests  danger  to  the  man  of 
her  heart  causes  Marina  profound  uneasiness. 

The  consequence  is  that  the  bride's  sleep  is  rest 
less,  and  she  tosses  wakefully  on  her  pillow.  Her 
husband's  watch  is  on  deck,  and  every  swash  of  the 
waves  outside  says  to  her  the  day  is  approaching 
when  they  will  land  at  Nice,  where  if  she  would  pro 
tect  the  life  of  the  man  she  adores  she  must  do  the 
awful  thing. 


104  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  having 
been  relieved  by  the  mate,  she  hears  her  husband 
descend  the  companionway  to  the  little  salon.  He 
is  about  to  enter  her  stateroom  when  Barnes's  foot 
fall  is  heard  upon  the  companion  ladder  and  the 
American  says :  "  Come  on  deck,  Edwin.  That  in 
fernal  felucca  is  still  dogging  us.  I  have  discovered 
the  villain  signalling  her.  We  must  act  at  once !  " 

The  footsteps  of  the  two  men  indicate  that  they 
rapidly  ascend  to  the  deck.  There  is  some  danger 
on  board — danger  for  her  husband.  Marina,  throw 
ing  on  a  lace  wrapper,  steps  into  the  salon. 

There  another  lightly  clothed  young  lady  meets 
her.  "  Did  you  hear  them?  "  asks  Miss  Anstruther, 
in  a  gasping  breath.  "  There  is  peril  to  those  we 
love  on  deck." 

Then  the  two  glide  with  light  feet  to  the  gloom 
above. 

In  the  cookhouse,  Barnes  and  Edwin  are  con 
fronting  the  little  Frenchman  who,  seated  upon  his 
galley  chest,  is  uttering  cries  of  affright,  for  the 
stalwart  sailor  with  a  marlinspike  in  his  hand  and 
Barnes  with  his  pistol  ready  have  unpleasantly  and 
abruptly  disturbed  his  slumbers. 

"  Messieurs,  I  am  innocent  as  a  babe  unborn !  " 
stammers  the  affrighted  dishpan  artist. 

"  Innocent ! "  snarls  the  American,  "  when  you 
left  your  galley  fire  unbanked  against  orders,  and 


"DON'T    KILL    THE    COOK!"  105 

your  porthole  open  so  that  this  red  light  would  indi 
cate  our  course  to  that  fishing  boat  that  has  dogged 
us  every  tack  from  St.  Tropez." 

"  Innocent !  "  snarls  the  American,  "  when  you 
went  on  shore  at  that  port  to  get  ice  and  sent  a  tele 
gram  to  Marseilles,  and  then  lingered  there,  pre 
tending  to  buy  vegetables  till  a  wire  could  be  re 
ceived  from  that  devil  Danella.  The  only  question, 
Edwin,  is  shall  we  put  him  ashore  or  throw  him 
overboard ! " 

Leboeuf  utters  a  faint  shriek:  "Assassinat!  " 

It  is  answered.  Two  lovely  creatures  in  exquisite 
dishabille  fly  in.  One  cries,  excitedly:  "  For  the  love 
of  the  Virgin,  spare  him !  " 

The  other  implores :  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  don't 
kill  the  cook!" 

But  both  stand  between  marlinspike  and  pistol 
and  the  threatened  Frenchman. 


CHAPTER    VI 

LADY     CHARTRIS'S     NEW     SUITOR 

"  CIEL,  you  speak  my  language,"  ej  aculates  Le- 
boeuf,  in  mixed  English  and  French,  knocking  over 
some  pans  and  kettles  and  sinking  on  his  knees  be 
fore  the  beautiful  beings  who  defend  him.  "  Tell 
you  zese  Anglais,  who  cannot  understand  my  ex- 
planazion,  zat  I  am  no  traitor,  zat  I  am  cook  and 
nothing  else ! "  he  cries  to  Marina.  "  Have  I 
poisoned  anyone?  Diable,  no,  my  salads  were  mar 
vellous  ;  my  entrees  gave  no  indigestion.  Zen  why 
do  zese  men  threaten  me  with  death  ?  " 

"  See  if  you  cannot  get  out  of  the  beggar 
some  logical  explanation  of  his  peculiar  conduct," 
mutters  Edwin,  gloomily. 

"  You  have  frightened  the  poor  man  so  he  can 
not  make  you  understand,"  remarks  Enid  severely. 

"  Then,  ask  him  to  tell  you,"  says  Barnes,  "  why, 
when  we  called  for  ice  at  St.  Tropez  he  surrep 
titiously  sent  a  telegram  to  Marseilles  and  then  de 
layed  us  three  hours  at  that  port  till  that  fishing 
vessel,  probably  directed  by  wire,  got  under  way 
to  dog  our  footsteps." 

106 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       107 

"  And  why,  to-night,  against  the  regulations  of 
my  vessel,"  adds  Anstruther,  "  he  kept  this  galley 
fire  unbanked  so  that  the  light  shining  through  his 
open  porthole  indicates  to  the  felucca  what  craft  it 
is  to  pursue." 

Marina  puts  these  questions  to  the  cook  and  trans 
lates  the  following  answer :  "  The  ice  was  necessary. 
After  I  am  on  shore  to  get  it,  I  sent  a  telegram,  as 
I  promised,  to  Monsieur  Deupez,  who  had  come  to 
me  in  Marseilles  and  said :  4  You  go  on  the  Seagull. 
The  Cafe  Vefleur  will  want  you  as  soon  as  -their 
grand  chef  Meudon  goes  to  Paris?  To  engage 
you,  they  must  know  where  you  are.  To  miss  your 
services  would  be  a  blow  for  the  great  restaurant. 
So  they  can  communicate  with  you,  telegraph  me 
immediately  on  landing  from  each  port  the  yacht 
stops,  that  they  can  get  you  the  instant  Meudon 
leaves.'  He  gave  me  money  for  this.  Therefore 
the  moment  I  am  on  shore,  I  telegraph  simply :  '  St. 
Tropez.  I  am  here.  Leboeuf.'  Soon  I  received  a 
return  message :  '  Hold  the  yacht  three  hours.'  I 
have  vegetables  to  buy,  also  flowers.  That  takes 
time,  after  the  market  is  closed.  I  don't  hurry. 
What  matters  if  a  pleasure  yacht  leave  a  little  later? 
From  Marseilles  I  receive  no  further  answer.  The 
chef  of  the  Vefleur  has  not  yet  gone,  so  I  come  on 
board.  This  night,  the  morning  watch  want  coffee ; 
Monsieur  Graham  say  give  it  to  them,  so  I  leave 


108  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

my  fire  imbanked.  It  was  very  hot;  I  open  the 
porthole  of  my  galley.  That's  all.  Void,  what  I 
have  done  is  simply  business.  I  am  a  great  cook. 
The  Cafe  Vefleur  wishes  to  engage  me ;  that  is 
all." 

"  Aha,"  cries  Enid  generously ;  "  you  see  the 
chef  simply  expected  to  get  a  good  position  in  the 
kitchen  of  a  leading  Marseilles  restaurant." 

Listening  to  this,  Edwin  and  Barnes  go  into 
consultation.  Probably  the  memory  of  his  mag 
nificent  cuisine  makes  them  lenient  to  the  artist. 
"  I  believe  the  little  beggar  is  innocent,"  says  the 
sailor. 

"  Simply  a  matter  of  vanity,"  remarks  Burton. 
"  He  thought  they  wanted  him  very  much  for  the 
Cafe  Vefleur." 

"  If  we  don't  put  the  little  chap  on  shore,  we 
must  trust  him,"  remarks  the  American.  Then  he 
says  briefly  to  Marina :  "  Please  show  Leboeuf  what 
danger  he  has  placed  upon  us  by  his  telegram." 

And  this  being  explained  to  him  by  the  beautiful 
women,  both  fair  ones  almost  speaking  together, 
Leboeuf  beginning  to  comprehend  the  plot  against 
even  their  lives,  the  little  Frenchman  breaks  out  ex 
citedly  and  gallantly  in  a  mixture  of  polyglot: 
"  M ille  towierres,  murder  you,  angels  of  mercy  ? 
Nevaire!  I,  Felix  Leboeuf,  vill  defend  you  both 
vith  my  life."  He  seizes  and  kisses  their  hands. 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       109 

"  Zese  assassins  shall  answer  to  me  for  making  me 
zeir  instrument.  No  more  telegrams  while  I  am  a 
Seagull.  Zat  I  swear  to  you,"  and  the  little  fellow's 
eyes  glow  with  gratitude  as  they  rest  upon  the 
gentle  creatures  who,  as  they  have  stood  between 
him  and  marlinspike  and  pistol,  have  seemed  divine 
in  mercy. 

But  despite  the  innocence  and  fealty  of  Monsieur 
Leboeuf,  Edwin  and  Barnes  leave  his  galley  dis 
mayed.  This  additional  evidence  of  the  crafty 
assiduity  with  which  they  are  being  followed  makes 
both  men  very  serious,  though  it  affects  Marina's 
delicate  nerves  even  more  intensely,  and  Enid  shud 
ders  in  the  soft  night  air  at  the  thought  that  the 
hand  of  the  assassin  seems  still  upon  them. 

"  We  must  settle  exactly  how  we  proceed,"  whis 
pers  Barnes  to  Edwin,  the  two  ladies  having  re 
treated  to  the  stern.  "  What  do  you  propose  ?  " 

"  Why,  as  not  only  a  sailor  but  a  man  of  common 
sense,  I  propose  to  get  away  from  these  sneaky 
devils  as  far  as  possible;  crack  on  everything,  round 
Sardinia,  drive  for  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar  and  up 
the  Atlantic  and  Bay  of  Biscay  to  England." 

Barnes's  glance  rests  upon  Marina,  who  has 
wandered  to  the  stern,  an  increased  terror  on  her 
spirituelle  face.  "  Medically,  I  do  not  think,  in  her 
present  neurotic  state,  your  wife  could  endure  the 
voyage,"  he  answers.  He  glances  over  the  stern — 


110  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

far  away  in  the  gloom  of  the  coming  morning  is 
the  felucca.  "  There's  practical  proof  that  the  ven 
detta  is  ever  following  us,"  he  says,  simply.  "  That 
cruel  craft  is  sent  to  dog  us  to  any  port  where  we 
may  land.  In  England,  you  will  be  too  prominent 
to  escape  notice.  Besides,  do  you  or  I  want  to  live 
our  lives  always  looking  over  our  shoulders  for  some 
enemy  behind  us?  No,  there  is  one  way — my 
original  plan." 

Filled  with  the  deadly  determination  of  the  Saxon 
race  when  their  women  are  assailed,  he  continues 
shortly : 

"  Get  the  ladies  concealed  and  guarded  as  care 
fully  as  possible  with  Lady  Chartris  at  Villefranche, 
then  you  and  I  turn  about  and  meet  these  devils, 
and,  if  necessary,  destroy  them;  at  all  events,  de 
stroy  the  man  who  has  the  money,  that  permits 
these  assassins  to  follow  us  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth." 

"  By  Heaven,  you  are  right,"  answers  Edwin. 

"  Now,  the  best  way  to  do  it  ?  " 

Over  this  they  hold  consultation,  and  the  result  is 
that  next  morning  when  they  are  off  Porto  Fer- 
rajo,  still  finding  the  felucca  in  sight,  they  take 
the  following  action.  That  day,  sailing  well  be}^ond 
the  famed  island  of  Monte  Cristo,  the  night  coming 
on  dark  and  heavy,  Anstruther  puts  out  every  light 
on  the  vessel  and  turns  about,  and  the  next  morn- 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       111 

ing,  piloted  by  Graham,  who  knows  this  sea,  they 
are  alone  at  anchor  in  a  little  cove,  sheltered  by  the 
sterile  rocks  of  Gorgona. 

Here  the  English  officer  changes  the  appearance 
of  the  Seagull  almost  entirely.  Paint  pots  are  got 
out  and  she  soon  has  a  black  hull;  Miss  Anstruther, 
who  is  now  interested  in  the  matter,  painting  a 
new  name,  the  Wildfowl,  on  a  piece  of  canvas,  that 
is  tacked  over  the  stern.  Then  both  topmasts  of 
the  vessel  are  sent  down  on  deck  and  a  leg-of-mutton 
mainsail  that  Graham  reports  in  the  vessel's  sail 
locker,  is  bent  on  the  main  boom,  the  gaff  being  re 
moved.  In  addition,  the  rigging  is  overhauled  and 
made  more  slack  and  slouchy  like  that  of  some  care 
less  merchant  trading  schooner. 

So  the  next  day,  beating  out  upon  the  sea  be 
tween  Elba  and  Corsica,  is  a  very  different  vessel  to 
the  brilliant  pleasure  craft  that  left  Marseilles. 
Upon  its  deck  are  people  also  changed. 

The  intimacy  of  a  yachting  excursion  to  young 
men  and  young  women  who  love  each  other,  gen 
erally  makes  the  deck  of  the  craft  under  soft  suns 
fanned  by  refreshing  breezes,  nigh  onto  a  heaven, 
but  haunted  by  the  supposed  deft  letters  of  Cipriano 
Danella,  the  Seagull  is  an  inferno. 

"  The  deck  of  this  vessel  has  become,"  Edwin  mut 
ters  gloomily  to  Barnes,  "  nigh  unto  hell.  Can't 
you  see,"  he  whispers  despairingly,  "  that  every  day 


112  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Marina  grows  more  anxious  and  more  nervous? 
My  God,  it  is  for  me." 

This  remark  is  made  to  the  American  as  the  two 
men  sit  smoking  between  the  main  and  the  foremast 
late  the  next  evening. 

"  Did  you  notice,"  adds  Anstruther,  with  a  sigh, 
"  she  had  no  appetite?  " 

"  You  mean  your  sister?  "  says  the  American. 

"  Certainly  not ;  Marina !  My  wife  didn't  eat  a 
mouthful." 

"  Neither  did  Miss  Anstruther!  " 

"  Nonsense !  Enid  was  enthusiastic  over  our  par- 
lez-vous  cook's  culinary  triumphs." 

"  Yes,  with  her  lips,  but  not  with  her  teeth," 
mutters  Burton,  grimly.  "  Womanlike,  she  cried 
out  about  filet  mignon  and  omelette  souffle  and  af 
fected  to  eat— but " 

"  But  stored  away  no  cargo,"  suggests  Anstruther. 
"  So  much  the  better  for  you,  old  man ;  when  a  girl 
gets  off  her  food  she's  hard  hit  in  some  other  part 
of  her  anatomy  than  her  stomach.  My  sister's  a 
good  sailor,  so  it  isn't  sea  sickness  affects  her." 

"  Sea  sickness!  "  jeers  Barnes,  savagely.  "  Can't 
you  see  that  every  hour  Enid  grows  more  cold  and 
more  haughty  to  me,  punishing  me  because  I  didn't 
wed  her  that  day  in  Marseilles,  when  even  Emory, 
the  cold-blooded  Yankee  detective,  shuddered  and 
said  it  would  be  a  crime  for  me  to  marry  with  this 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       113 

devilish  threat  I  carry  in  my  pocket  against  any 
woman  who  is  unfortunate  enough  to  become  my 
wife." 

"  It  concerns  my  sister ;  supposing  you  show  it  to 
me !  "  suggests  Edwin. 

"  Supposing  you  show  it  to  me  I  "  comes  to  them 
in  a  sad  yet  clear  voice  from  the  neighbouring 
cutter. 

"  My  God,  you  overheard? "  Barnes  faces  his 
beautiful  fiancee  as  she  steps  from  the  large  boat 
that,  after  the  merchant  fashion,  has  now  been 
stowed  on  the  deck  amidship. 

"  Certainly !  Hoping  I  had  done  your  love  an  in 
justice,  I  have  been  trying  to  overhear  some  such 
revelation  as  this  for  the  last  few  days."  The  girl's 
eyes  are  beaming  now,  tender  with  love  and  hope. 

"  No,  no ;  it  is  too  horrible !  "  shudders  the  Ameri 
can,  whose  hand  had  been  almost  at  his  pocket  when 
her  words  had  smitten  him. 

"  If  my  brother  could  read  it,  surely  it  will  not 
blast  my  eyes,"  remarks  the  young  lady,  trying  to 
be  calm,  though  she  is  trembling.  Then  she  breaks 
forth  almost  passionately,  "  You  owe  this  to  my  love 
for  you.  Since  you  seemed  reluctant  to  wear  me  as 
your  bride,  to  accept  my  wifely  devotion,  my  pride 
has  suffered  so  much  that  you,  Burton,  cannot  deny 
me  the  sight  of  that  letter  so  that  I  may  again  trust 
the  ardency  of  your  desire  to  make  me  yours." 


MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Better  not,"  dissents  Barnes,  who  has  grown 
cooler  as  his  sweetheart  has  become  excited. 

"  I  demand  it ! "  she  extends  her  delicate  hand 
determinedly. 

"  Best  give  it  to  her,"  remarks  her  sailor  brother, 
grimly. 

"You  advise  it,  then?" 

"  Yes,  she  will  never  rest  without  it  now,  if  I  know 
Enid  of  old."  Edwin  caressingly  places  his  arm 
about  his  sister's  svelte  waist ;  then  suddenly  exclaims : 
"  My  Heaven,  she  is  trembling,  Barnes.  She  is 
almost  hysterical.  You  must  let  her  see  it." 

Barnes  silently  places  the  accursed  threat  against 
the  woman  whom  he  dares  to  marry  and  her  off 
spring  in  the  slight  hand  of  his  betrothed. 

She  carries  it  to  the  binnacle  light  and  reads  it 
carefully  twice  over.  Then  she  returns  to  them,  her 
eyes  brilliant  with  determined  devotion,  yet  swimming 
with  tenderest  love.  "  You  let  such  a  chimera  as  this 
little  piece  of  paper,  the  ravings  of  some  maniac  on 
revenge,  stand  between  you  and  my  love." 

"  No,  no ;  this  threat — you  have  had  proof  enough 
—is  a  menace  all  our  lives.  I  desire  to  put  its  author 
where  he  can  do  no  harm  to  you  before  I  wed  you." 

Then  what  Barnes  has  feared  comes  to  pass. 

"  Before?  After  you  wed  me !  "  cries  his  fiancee, 
in  exalted  mood.  "  Let  us  together  face  and  anni 
hilate  this  fiend.  Don't  you  think  I  can  aid  and  sup- 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       115 

port  you  against  this  atrocious  conspiracy  that 
threatens  your  life,  better  as  your  wife  than  if  sepa 
rated  from  you  by  the  miserable  doubts  and  uncer 
tainties  that  have  come  between  us  in  the  last  few 
days." 

"  But  remember  this  is  an  undying  feud.  Think 
what  my  self-reproach  would  be  if  I  let  your  love 
for  me  bring  miserable  death  to  you,  my  adored," 
whispers  Barnes,  his  passion  kindled  into  more  bril 
liant  flame  by  the  devotion  of  his  delicate  but  resolute 
fiancee. 

"  My  death  couldn't  happen,  sweetheart,  unless 
you  died  also,  Burton,"  she  says  simply. 

But  Edwin,  who  had  taken  the  paper  from  the 
excited  girl's  hand  and  strode  to  the  binnacle  light 
to  read  it,  now  returns  with  hasty  step  and  shudders : 
"  Think  what  this  devil  threatens  to  any  woman  who 
weds  this  man !  " 

"  Think  you  also !  "  answers  his  sister,  "  how  your 
wedding  Marina  brought  you  into  this  accursed  blood 
feud.  Would  you  now  give  up  your  bride?  " 

"Give  up  Marina?"  he  mutters,  aghast.  "Not 
with  a  drop  of  blood  in  my  body !  " 

"  Then,  Edwin,  I  demand  of  this  gentleman,  who 
says  he  loves  me,  that  he  weds  me  the  moment  we  go 
on  shore  at  Nice  even  if  it  brings  me  into  the  un 
happy  feud  proclaimed  against  him.  No,  no ;  don't 
refuse  me,  Burton,"  she  whispers,  determinedly, 


116  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  'tis  the  last  chance.  You  wed  me  then  or  never 
wed  me!  If  you  cannot  trust  me  with  your  woes, 
I'll  not  take  part  of  your  joys." 

More  enamoured  than  ever  with  the  charming  girl 
who  will  risk  death  to  be  his  bride,  Barnes  silently 
extends  his  arms,  and  she  falling  into  them,  the 
yacht's  deck  becomes  a  heaven  to  these  lovers. 

Edwin  turns  toward  the  binnacle,  muttering  to 
himself :  "  Bully  for  Enid's  pluck !  "  then  sighs : 
"  But  wait  till  she  fears  for  her  husband  as  Marina 
does  for  me."  A  moment  later  he  is  only  the  skipper 
of  the  vessel  as  he  inspects  with  careful  eye  the 
yacht's  course  and  sees  that  there  is  a  sharp  lookout 
kept  forward. 

The  next  day  the  sun  again  rises  bright  over  the 
Mediterranean.  The  felucca  is  never  sighted.  Mon 
sieur  Leboeuf  serves  meals  fit  for  a  fairy  princess 
in  the  salon,  and  Enid  and  Barnes  have  such  appe 
tites  the  cook  is  delighted.  In  their  happiness,  even 
Marina  seems  to  have  regained  her  confidence.  If 
not,  she  simulates  it  very  well.  Perhaps  she  is 
stimulated  to  this,  because,  acting  under  Barnes's 
advice,  Edwin  has  again  questioned  her  as  to  the 
letter  that  had  caused  her  to  faint  in  the  Marseilles 
railroad  depot. 

The  consequence  is  that  a  few  days  later  the  Sea 
gull,  under  the  name  of  the  Wildfowl,  drops  her 
anchor  in  the  little  bay  at  Villefranche,  coming  in, 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       117 

not  like  a  sprightly  yacht,  but  like  a  slow,  lumbering, 
carelessly  sailed  and  inadequately  handled  merchant 
craft. 

It  is  now  early  evening.  Mr.  Barnes's  imme 
diate  object  is  to  discover  the  villa  that  Lady 
Chartris  has  rented  and  occupied.  Before  he  left 
Marseilles,  he  had  asked  that  lady  to  decorate  her 
cottage  with  a  French  flag.  This  would  create  less 
comment  than  an  English  one,  and  the  American 
wanted  some  signal  by  which  it  could  be  easily  and 
directly  distinguished. 

Barnes  places  his  marine  glass  on  the  little  town 
of  Villefranche  nestled  under  the  forests  of  Mont 
Boron  and  snuggled  in  between  the  head  of  the  bay 
and  the  naval  station.  On  the  latter  floats  the  ban 
ner  of  France,  but  on  none  of  its  outlying  villas  can 
he  see  the  signal  he  had  suggested. 

To  avoid  the  curiosity  of  passing  boats,  Edwin 
has  anchored  near  the  Beaulieu  side  of  the  bay. 
Upon  this  Barnes  now  directs  his  glass.  Looking 
it  over,  the  American  thinks  it  will  be  much  more 
probably  the  location  of  Lady  Chartris,  as  it  has 
a  number  of  pretty  villas,  nestled  among  olive,  al 
mond  and  orange  trees,  a  good  many  of  them  having 
water  frontage  and  several  being  possessed  of  boat 
landings,  as  he  suggested.  But  on  none  of  them 
floats  the  flag  of  France.  He  is  almost  putting  his 
glass  aside  preparatory  to  a  journey  on  shore  to 


118  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

determine  the  location  of  Lady  Chartris  when  he  sud 
denly  exclaims :  "  Hang  that  Maud !  " 

"  Maud ! "  cries  Edwin,  who  has  been  busy  in 
making  the  vessel  shipshape.  "  Is  she  above  the 
horizon  ?  " 

"  Very  much,"  laughs  Barnes.  "  Notice  that 
overgrown  girl  romping  with  the  big  dog  and  wav 
ing  the  French  flag  at  him.  That  flag,  I  imagine, 
was  to  have  been  our  signal."  Then  he  inspects 
the  villa  carefully  and  is  pleased  to  see  that  a  good 
solid  brick  wall  of  sufficient  height  to  exclude  any  but 
very  energetic  intruders  surrounds  its  pretty  garden. 
Backed  as  it  is  toward  the  sea  by  the  wooded  prom 
ontory  of  St.  Jean,  the  house,  which  is  fairly  large, 
seems  quite  retired;  a  good  many  fig  and  several 
orange  trees  both  in  blossom  and  in  fruit,  as  well  as 
the  oleander  and  arbutus  keep  it  from  the  obser 
vation  of  the  neighbouring  lanes.  Only  on  the  water 
side  are  its  lawns  open  to  view,  and  this  portion  of 
the  quiet  bay  appears  at  present  devoid  of  boats. 

A  light  flight  of  stone  steps  that  enter  the  water 
and  a  tasty  little  floating  wooden  landing  stage  indi 
cate  the  former  owner  of  the  villa  had  been  aquatic. 

"  That's  just  the  place  to  put  the  ladies  on  shore 
as  soon  as  it's  dark,"  remarks  Edwin,  for  the  two 
young  men  had  concluded  it  would  be  best  to  make 
their  entry  into  Villefranche  very  quietly. 

"  Very  well,  order  the  cutter  away,"  says  Barnes, 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       119 

"  and  I'll  get  ashore  and  see  that  everything's  all 
right." 

As  his  foot  is  on  the  side  ladder,  a  blushing  but 
radiant  young  lady  steps  to  him  from  the  salon  and 
whispers  bashfully:  "It  is  to-morrow  evening." 

Though  the  atrocious  threat  against  his  wife  is 
still  on  his  breast,  Barnes  says  no  word  to  dissuade 
her ;  the  graces  of  her  figure  and  the  loveliness  of  her 
face  make  him  want  her  so. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  American  is  at  the  little  land 
ing  stage.  As  he  runs  up  the  stone  steps,  Maud's 
bright  eyes  light  upon  him.  The  girl  stops  her 
romping  with  the  big  dog,  commands :  "  Down,  Ma- 
rouche!"  and  crying:  "Glory,  glory,  Mr.  Barnes 
of  New  York.  I  thought  you  were  in  London !  "  flies 
down  to  him  with  additional  exclamations  of  sur 
prise  and  delight. 

Miss  Chartris's  face  is  alight  with  excited  joy. 
Here  is  her  customer  that  she  had  thought  lost, 
come  back  to  buy  for  many  bonbons  the  last  quarter 
of  that  Marina  letter. 

"  Where  is  your  mother,  Maud-?  "  remarks  Bur 
ton,  pleasantly,  as  the  girl  snuggles  one  of  her 
rather  soiled  hands  into  his. 

"  Oh,  mamma  is  in  high  form.  She's  in  the  house, 
there.  She's  so  blessed  easy,  I  think  I'm  going  to 
have  a  step-papa,"  answers  Miss  Chartris,  gaily. 

"  Ah,  Von  Billow,"  remarks  Barnes,  sententiously. 


120  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Perhaps.  But  mamma  has  other  admirers  now," 
returns  Maud,  roguishly  imitating  the  arrogance 
with  which  her  widowed  mother  would  make  this  an 
nouncement. 

This  news  is  not  at  all  satisfactory  to  Mr.  Barnes. 
The  more  followers  Lady  Chartris  has  lounging 
about,  the  less  will  be  the  retirement  of  the  villa. 

"  Very  well,  run  off  and  play,  Maud ;  I'll  see  you 
a  little  later,"  he  remarks,  glumly. 

They  are  entering  the  ample  portico  of  the  house. 

"  Did  you  bring  marrons  glaces  with  you?  " 

"  No,  but  if  you're  a  good  little  girl,  there  are 
marrons  glaces  in  Nice.  You  remember  the  first  I 

bought  for  you,  the  time  I  met "    Barnes's  eyes 

glow  at  the  happy  memory. 

"  Enid  and  me  in  the  carriage  on  the  Promenade 
des  Anglais,  and  I  told  you  about  her  other  one. 
Come  out  after  you've  seen  her,  and  I'll  tell  you 
about  mamma's  other  one — if  she's  too  bashful," 
laughs  Maud,  and  goes  to  romping  again  with  Ma- 
rouche,  who  has  followed  them,  wagging  his  tail. 

Lady  Chartris  at  her  door  receives  generous  Mr. 
Barnes  effusively.  "  The  villa  is  perfectly  delight 
ful,  thank  you,  dear  Burton,"  she  observes  pleas 
antly.  "  I  selected  it  as  you  wished — just  near 
enough  to  be  in  touch  with  the  gaiety  of  Nice  and 
far  enough  away  for  the  honeymoon  retirement  of 
Edwin  and  his  bride." 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       121 

Leading  him  into  a  delightful  drawing-room,  she 
adds :  "  You  must  see  what  a  charming  home  I  have 
for  all  of  us.  Marina  and  Enid  are  on  the  yacht, 
I  suppose?  " 

"  Yes,  the  ladies  will  be  here  this  evening,  my  dear 
Lady  Chartris,"  assents  Barnes.  Then  he  asks,  de 
sirous  to  know  if  the  privacy  of  the  villa  has  been 
preserved :  "  You  have  driven  into  Nice  once  or 
twice  since  you  arrived?  " 

"  Yes,  I've  only  been  here  five  days,  and  have  been 
literally  overwhelmed  with  attentions,"  Prunella  re 
marks,  rather  grandly.  "  My  horses  " — Barnes  had 
paid  for  them — "  take  me  into  Nice  in  twenty-five 
minutes  over  that  beautiful  forest  road." 

"  Ah,  and  Von  Billow?  "  he  suggests,  roguishly. 

"  Oh,  Baron  von  Billow  was  in  ecstasy  at  my  pres 
ence.  Franz  gave  me  a  lunch  at  the  Casino." 

"  Oho,  it  has  got  so  far  as  '  Franz,'  "  laughs  Bur 
ton.  "  And  your  other  admirers  ?  "  his  tone  is  in 
sinuating.  "  You  cannot  persuade  me  you  hadn't 
more  than  one,  Lady  Chartris." 

"  Oh,  several,  but  I — I  don't  like  to  speak  about 
them."  The  widow's  face  becomes  rosy. 

A  good  deal  of  this  has  been  said  as  Prunella  has 
been  showing  Mr.  Barnes  about  the  pretty  house, 
and  he  has  inspected  the  rooms  set  apart  for  Edwin 
and  his  bride  and  Miss  Anstruther. 

From  the  last  of  these,  Tompson,  Enid's  English 


122  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

maid,  greets  him  with  a  pleasant  courtesy  and  says 
proudly :  "  Please  tell  my  young  missus  that  I 
brought  all  her  trunks  and  Mrs.  Anstruther's,  too. 
That  busybody  American,  Emory,  said  I  was  only 
to  bring  the  two  he  covered  with  canvas  without 
names  on  them,  but  I  know  how  much  ladies  like  to 
have  their  dresses,  and  I  fetched  every  blessed 
valise." 

Barnes  groans  internally.  The  officiousness  of  the 
abigail  has  brought  additional  danger  of  their  re 
treat  being  discovered.  "  After  this,"  he  observes 
curtly,  "  do  you  obey  orders,  Tompson." 

Then,  despite  his  hostess's  suggestion,  for  Lady 
Chartris  has  a  lovely  chamber  overlooking  the  water 
for  him  who  is  really  the  master  of  the  villa,  Bur 
ton  selects  for  his  own  use  a  much  inferior  bed 
room,  but  one  that  gives  him  a  commanding  view  of 
all  the  country  lanes  that  lead  to  the  grounds,  re 
marking  easily :  "  Any  place  will  do  for  me,  Lady 
Chartris.  Don't  bother  yourself  too  much  for  a 
bachelor.  I'm  accustomed  to  roughing  it;  I've 
slept  for  the  past  few  days  on  a  cot  in  the  yacht's 
salon. 

"  But  seeing  that  everything  is  all  prepared, 
I'll  bring  Marina,  Miss  Anstruther  and  Edwin  on 
shore  this  evening.  Please  make  no  preparations  for 
us.  Treat  us  all  en  famille.  I  think  I'll  go  down  to 
my  boat." 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       123 

As  he  leaves  the  house  he  suddenly  asks :  "  Are 
there  any  letters  for  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes.  A  Mr.  Emory,  who  acts  as  your 
agent,  I  presume — he  paid  your  bill  at  the  Grand 
Hotel — came  to  me  as  I  was  leaving  Marseilles  and 
asked  me  to  deliver  this  personally."  Lady  Chartris 
runs  upstairs,  and  returning,  places  an  epistle  in 
Burton's  hand,  adding :  "  Here  is  also  another  ad 
dressed  in  the  same  hand  that  arrived  three  days 
ago,  under  enclosure  to  me." 

Anxious  to  inspect  these,  the  American  turns 
aside  from  the  garden  walk  to  the  landing,  and  find 
ing  a  bench  under  an  oleander  tree,  sits  down  to 
peruse  them  quietly.  The  contents  of  the  first  makes 
him  knit  his  brows. 

It  reads: 


"MARSEILLES,  May  27,   1883. 
"MY  DEAR  MR.  BARNES: 

"  I  send  this  by  Lady  Chartris.  Any  further  communications 
until  I  again  see  you  will  be  mailed  under  cover  to  that  lady, 
as  I  dare  not  give  our  adversary  any  chance  of  finding  your 
location  by  the  post,  for  we  have  to  deal  with  somebody  whose 
devilish  ingenuity  beats  that  of  Old  Nick  himself.  The  way 
the  cuss  substituted  his  own  assassins  in  place  of  the  two 
Frenchies  I  had  hired  to  ride  behind  your  carriage  and  guard 
you  when  you  left  Marseilles,  will  prove  this. 

"  He  must  have  got  onto  me  immediately  after  you  em 
ployed  me.  Someone  must  have  followed  you  and  seen  our 
chat  at  the  Hotel  des  Deux-Mondes  and  guessed  that  you 
engaged  me.  All  that  day  I  must  have  been  shadowed  so 
slick  I  never  reckoned  it.  By  this  means  they  must  have 
guessed  that  I  hired  Jamieson's  yacht  for  you  and  the  men 


124  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

to  guard  you  to  the  embarkation.  Any  way,  the  two  French 
men,  who  were  to  see  you  safe,  while  waiting  for  you  and 
party  to  get  into  your  carriage,  left  their  nags  at  the  door  of 
a  wine-shop  just  round  the  corner  from  your  hotel,  in  the 
Rue  du  Musee,  and  stepped  in  to  liquor,  and  that  is  the  last 
either  of  the  bums  know  about  anything  until  they  woke  up 
with  a  thundering  headache  and  were  told  they  had  been 
asleep  in  the  wine-shop  for  the  last  six  hours. 

"  When  they  came  out,  about  midnight,  they  found  their 
nags  waiting  for  them,  but  so  bunged  up  they  must  have 
carried  the  two  men  after  you  till  they  jumped  me  at  the 
Roucas  Blanc.  I  have  questioned  them  and  they  admit  that 
a  bystander  asked  them  to  drink  wine  with  him. 

"  In  addition,  if  it  isn't  too  late,  I  want  to  warn  you  about 
the  cook  for  the  Seagull,  whom  Graham  hurriedly  engaged. 
The  devil  who's  running  this  vendetta  on  you  may  have  got  to 
him  also  in  some  way,  though  everybody  about  the  docks  says 
that  Leboeuf  is  square. 

"  I  shall  be  in  Nice  not  later  than  June  4th,  as  from  what 
you  said  to  me  I  reckon  you  won't  be  back  before  that  time. 
"Yours  anxiously, 

"  ELIJAH  RETJBEX  EMORY." 

Then  he  opens  the  second  letter  from  the  Ameri 
can  detective,  dated  June  2d.  It  contains  a  receipted 
bill  from  the  Grand,  that  he  had  paid  for  Mr.  Barnes, 
and  also  a  statement  that  young  Bernardo  Saliceti 
had  arrived  from  Ajaccio  on  the  Wednesday  boat, 
but  so  far  as  Emory  could  discover,  had  met  no  one 
in  Marseilles,  though  he  had  received  some  tele 
grams. 

"  I  am  onto  this  young  Corsican  cock-a-doodle," 
wrote  the  detective,  "  and  as  I  find  he  is  leaving  for 
a  trip  along  the  coast  toward  Nice  I  shall  follow 
him  to  see  if  he  will  lead  me  to  the  head  villain. 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       125 

"  I've  also  written  to  Perrier,  whom  you  can  trust, 
to  look  out  for  you.  His  address  in  Nice  is  239  Rue 
Palermo.  You  mention  to  him  '  Vendetta,'  and  he'll 
know  you  and  reply,  '  Marseilles.' ' 

It  ended  with  a  curious  postscript.  "  I  have  just 
discovered  that  young  Saliceti's  first  stop  is  St. 
Tropez." 

Mr.  Barnes  has  very  little  time  to  turn  these  com 
munications  over  in  his  mind,  for  he  is  interrupted 
by  a  sudden  swish  of  short  skirts  and  Maud,  stand 
ing  beside  him,  demands :  "  How  much  for  mamma's 
other  suitor?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  I  want  him,  Miss  Bribery  and 
Corruption,"  mutters  Burton,  being  anxious  to  re 
flect  upon  Emory's  letters. 

"  Not  curious  to  know  of  the  man  who  brought 
mamma  home  yesterday  ?  "  she  asks  eagerly,  "  the 
chappie  who  kissed  her  sure;  but  whether  her  hand 
or  her  lips,  I  couldn't  see,"  grins  the  girl. 

"  Indeed,  who  is  the  ardent  gallant?  "  sneers 
Barnes,  indifferently. 

The  answer  that  comes  strikes  the  American's 
nerve  centres. 

"  Count  Corregio  Cipriano  Danella,"  remarks 
Miss  Chartris,  affably.  "  You  know  his  poor  brother, 
Musso,  is  dead." 

"  What,  the  fellow  who  gave  Marina  the  letter 
in  the  Marseilles  depot  that  made  her  faint?  "  The 


126  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

light  of  battle  springs  into  Barnes's  face.  "  You 
put  me  within  ten  paces  of  that  gentleman  with  the 
scar  over  his  eye,  Maudie,"  he  remarks  slowly,  "  and 
you  shall  die  of  bonbons." 

Here  Miss  Chartris  shocks  his  nerve  centres  again. 

"  Oh,  he's  not  scarry  at  all !  "  cries  Maud,  indig 
nantly.  "  That  dissipated-looking  creature  is  not 
Corregio  Cipriano  Danella.  Cip  is  a  corker!  Cor- 
sican  hat  and  plumes — so  romantic — in  deep  black 
— so  sad — manners  like  a  dancing  master — quite 
actor-like,  too.  He  buttered  me  all  over  with  com 
pliments  till  my  pig-tails  stood  on  end  with  joy. 
While  ma  was  primping  after  her  drive,  we  played 
roily  pooly  on  the  green  and  I  told  him  how  a 
chap  who  had  a  kind  of  family  likeness  to  him  had 
mashed  Marina  and  passed  her  a  billet  doux  that 
knocked  her  silly  in  the  Marseilles  railroad  station. 
Ah,  how  Count  Corregio  laughed  in  his  old  school 
way :  '  An  amorette  is  a  lady's  privilege  even  in  her 
wedding  gown.' 

"  Then  somehow  he  jollied  me  along  till  I  got  gay 
and  told  him  how  anxious  you  were  to  buy  the  letter 
from  me,  and  I — I  only  had  sold  you  the  three- 
quarters  of  it  that  I  had  picked  up  on  the  floor  of 
the  depot — the  part  that  didn't  give  anything 
away." 

"  Then  you  have  the  other  part?  " 

Burton's    tone    is    so    searching,    his    manner    so 


LADY    CHARTRIS'S    NEW    SUITOR       127 

severe  that  Maud  dare  not  tell  him,  and  falters  out 
a  lie :  "  Of  course,  I  haven't.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I 
only  picked  up  what  I  gave  you  ?  " 

Suddenly  she  wails  imploringly :  "  But,  my 
Lordy,  you're  not  going  to  tell  ma.  Oh,  skinnings, 
if  she  hears  I  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  on  her  kiss 
business ! "  for  Barnes  has  risen  and  is  striding 
determinedly  back  to  the  house,  a  definite  resolution 
upon  his  set  face. 


BOOK    II 

CHAPTER    VII 

MAUD'S  CONFIDENCES 

Miss  CHAETRIS  pursues  him  along  the  walk  between 
the  citron  and  the  orange  trees,  asking  affrightedly : 
"  Why  do  you  look  so  terrible?  " 

For  Barnes  is  meditating  sardonically :  "  If  it 
were  only  the  scar-faced  devil,  I'd  kill  him  on  sight 
as  I  would  a  rattlesnake.  That  fiend  has  already 
condemned  himself.  But  this  one  who  has  turned  up 
here,  the  real  Corregio  Cipriano  Danella,  brother  of 
the  dead  man,  what  has  he  done  to  me  that  I  can  at 
present  justly  destroy  him?  Neither  Emory  nor 
myself,  from  the  signature  on  his  check,  could  say  he 
wrote  those  letters.  If  he  did,  the  dastard  threat 
against  my  coming  bride  would  make  me  send  Cip  to 
the  devil  in  very  short  order.  But  I  must  have 
proof." 

A  desperate  pluck  upon  his  sleeve  turns  him  about. 
Maud  is  half  sobbing :  "  Your  face  is  so — so  hor 
rible,  I — I  know  you're  going  to  tell  ma." 

"  How  old  is  this  Cipriano  Danella?  "  asks  Barnes, 
curtly. 

128 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  129 

"About  thirty-five.  Don't  tell  her  what  I  said 
about  the  kiss — ma  is  so  gone  on  him." 

"  So  you  think  your  mother  is  epris  with  this 
gentleman  in  romantic  Corsican  mourning?  " 

"  Lots !  Don't  you  see  how  she  has  made  me 
younger — two  more  tucks  in  my  skirts  and  petti 
coats,  put  there  to-day  by  my  blarsted  nursery  gov 
erness."  Maud  grinds  out  the  word  "  nursery  " 
between  set  teeth.  "  If  I  don't  say  to  gentlemen 
I'm  only  eleven,  that  Marston  is  to  give  me  more 
arithmetic  lessons — and  I  have  another  birthday 
coming  soon,"  she  sighs :  then  mutters  savagely : 
"  Hang  'em,  will  they  never  let  me  grow  old?  " 

"  Oh,  age  '11  strike  you  fast  enough,  when  you 
don't  want  it,  petite,"  remarks  Burton,  grimly,  as 
he  rings  the  bell  of  the  villa  and  demands  to  see 
Lady  Chartris. 

"  You — you  are  going  to  tell  ma?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  says  the  American,  in  kindly 
tone;  the  terror  of  the  repressed  girl,  who  is  still 
governed  as  a  child,  is  almost  pathetic. 

A  moment  later  her  mother  sweeps  affably  down 
to  him.  During  Barnes's  perusal  of  Emory's  letters 
and  enjoyment  of  Maud's  confidences,  Prunella  has 
made  a  toilette  that  seems  more  elaborate  than  would 
be  called  forth  by  the  arrival  of  relatives.  Her 
plump  shoulders  and  matronly  bust  spring  out  from 
a  superb  evening  gown  of  more  than  decollete  de 


130  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

rigueur.  In  addition,  some  great  Gallic  beauty 
artist  has  removed  the  lines  from  her  face — she  may 
now  pass  for  under  forty  in  a  salon.  This  has  not 
been  apparent  in  the  sunset  gloom,  but  the  house 
now  being  illuminated,  it  is  easily  appreciated  by 
her  astonished  visitor. 

"  She's  been  every  day  to  Madame  Duval,  50  Rue 
Paradis — you  know,  '  Beauty  without  Publicity.' 
Ain't  she  gone  on  Cip,"  whispers  Maud  in  explana 
tion,  as  she  glides  away. 

"  What,  back  again  so  soon  ?  "  says  the  widow, 
pleasantly,  leading  Barnes  to  her  parlour. 

"  Yes,"  observes  that  gentleman,  "  I  forgot  to 
mention  that  the  reason  you  could  treat  us  en  famille 
is  that  to-morrow  I  am  about  to  wed " 

"  Enid  !  "  screams  the  lady.  "  Oh,  you  darling 
boy !  "  and  gives  him  a  sudden,  whole-souled  kiss. 
After  a  moment  she  says  deprecatingly :  "  This 
sudden  mating  will  not  permit  of  a  grand  wedding." 
Then,  her  eyes  growing  excited  at  the  thought  of 
social  success,  she  exclaims :  "  Maud  in  a  white  tulle 
made  with  baby  waist,  pink  sash  and  pink  silk  stock 
ings,  would  make  a  delightful  child  maid  of  honour. 
Postpone  it  for  a  week  and  I'll  give  you  a  ceremony 
that  will  electrify  all  Nice.  Of  course,  the  town  is 
growing  deserted,  but  Adelaide  Carrington  at  the 
De  la  Mediterranee,  Milly  Portman  of  the  De  Rome 
and  Lilly  Vivian  at  the  Hotel  des  Anglais,  are  three 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  131 

charming  English  girls  who  will  be  delightful  brides 
maids  for  Enid.  Besides,  Edwin  could  invite  the 
officers  of  Her  Majesty's  Opal,  which  is  lying  off 
Monte  Carlo,  and  the  Earl  of  Abbington  and  Lady 
Sevenoaks  from  Cannes — both  are  distant  relatives 
of  your  betrothed.  And  you — you  could  telegraph 
your  sister,  Lady  Morington,  to  run  down  from 
London.  Oh,  it  shall  be  the  most  important  wedding 
this  season  in  the  Riviera." 

"  It  is  the  most  important  wedding  to  me,"  re 
marks  Barnes,  solemnly,  "  but  it  will  be  the  most 
private  one.  Enid  and  I  are  only  anxious  to  be  wed. 
I  must  beg  you  to  say  nothing  about  this  to  any 
one."  The  gentleman's  tone  is  deferential  but  im 
perative.  "  To-night  I  shall  drive  into  Nice  and  see 
the  pastor  of  the  English  Church.  Here  in  this 
parlour,  to-morrow  evening,  he  shall  say,  by  the 
blessing  of  God,  the  words  that  will  make  my  darling 
mine." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  if  you  so  desire  it,  Burton,"  an 
swers  Prunella,  affably.  "  I  suppose  Enid  thinks  she 
can  manage  some  kind  of  a  wedding  gown  by  to-mor 
row  evening." 

"  Anyway,  that's  the  time,"  observes  Barnes, 
quietly.  All  the  while  he  is  studying  Lady  Chartris, 
wondering  if  her  marvellous  change  in  appearance 
has  attracted  Corregio  Cipriano  Danella,  or  whether 
the  Corsican  has  in  some  subtle  way  learned  this  is 


132  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

the  retreat  of  the  pursued,  and  is  here  on  account  of 
family  vengeance. 

"  There  is  slight  possibility  that  a  man  of  thirty- 
five  can  be  attracted  by  cosmetics,"  muses  the 
American.  Then  he  suddenly  asks :  "  Has  anyone 
called  here  for  me?  " 

"  Nobody,  I  believe.  The  only  person  I  observed 

in  Nice  who  knew  you  was  la  Belle "  Lady 

Chartris's  cheeks  glow  with  the  modest  blushes  of  an 
English  widow  as  she  checks  herself  in  mentioning 
the  awful  Blackwood. 

Barnes  blushes  also.  When  a  man  of  the  world  is 
about  to  wed  youth  and  purity,  the  follies  of  his 
wilder  youth  seem  shameful  things.  So  he  cuts  off 
this  mention  of  the  great  American  adventuress  by 
saying  shortly :  "  Mr.  Emory,  my  agent,  has  not 
been  for  me  yet?  " 

"  Why,  no,  I  haven't  heard  of  Emory  since  we  left 
Marseilles,"  remarks  his  hostess. 

"  Ask  your  servants,  please.  This  matter  is  im 
portant." 

Lady  Chartris  goes  out  and  after  a  few  minutes 
returns  and  says  that  she  has  questioned  everyone 
in  the  house  and  they  all  assert  that  nobody  since 
their  arrival  at  the  villa  had  called  and  asked  for 
Mr.  Barnes.  "  But  if  you  don't  bring  your  party 
on  shore,"  prattles  Prunella,  "  they'll  be  late  for 
dinner,  and — my  goodness!  I  had  forgotten — I 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  133 

have  an  engagement  in  Nice  this  evening,  so  I'll  have 
to  be  leaving  immediately  after." 

The  additional  tint  upon  the  lady's  cheeks  shows 
that  it  is  a  love  tryst. 

"  All  right,  I've  got  to  see  that  minister,"  replies 
Barnes,  easily,  "  so,  if  you'll  be  so  good,  you  can 
drive  me  in  to  Nice.  Now  I'll  get  our  party  on 
shore."  He  lights  a  cigar  and  strolls  rapidly  down 
to  the  little  landing  place  between  ilex  trees  and 
oleanders,  the  thoughts  of  his  coming  nuptials  rais 
ing  his  spirits. 

"  Since  the  new  Danella  is  here,  I'm  glad  to  know 
it,"  he  thinks.  "  A  discovered  danger  is  better  than 
a  hidden  one.  Who  the  deuce  is  that  scar-faced 
scoundrel?  "  Then  the  fire  in  his  Havana  dies  away, 
he  forgets  to  puff  it. 

Emory  was  to  be  here  by  the  4th — this  very  day. 
It's  nearly  expired  and  no  signs  of  the  detective,  a 
man  that  Barnes  knows  is  prompt  in  his  appoint 
ments.  "  What  can  this  mean?  " 

This  is  his  reflection  as  he  is  in  the  boat  being 
rowed  alongside  of  the  Wildfowl,  for  Edwin  has  had 
the  yacht  warped  tolerably  close  to  the  landing 
stage,  and  the  little  pleasure  vessel,  looking  like  a 
slovenly  merchant  schooner,  is  now  lying  not  over  a 
hundred  yards  away  from  where  the  soft  waters  flap 
lazily  upon  the  grounds  of  Lady  Chartris's  villa. 

Barnes  climbs  hastily  on  board,  takes  the  lieuten- 


134  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

ant  to  the  retirement  of  the  stern  and  rapidly  tells 
him  of  the  appearance  of  the  true  Corregio  Cipriano 
Danella.  "  This  complicates  matters,"  he  whispers. 
"  The  scar-faced  scoundrel  we  could  have  put  out  of 
the  way  without  compunction,  but  till  this  new 
arrival  does  some  overt  act  I  hesitate  at  sending  him 
to  Kingdom  Come !  " 

"  So  we  have  been  blaming  these  letters  on  the 
real  Count  Danella,  when  some  other  land  pirate  has 
been  doing  the  dirty  business,"  mutters  Edwin,  dis 
gustedly. 

"  Of  that  I  am  not  absolutely  sure,"  answers 
Burton ;  then  he  asks  eagerly :  "  Has  Marina  yet 
told  you  what  her  note  contained?  " 

"  Why,  I  was  questioning  her  on  that  only  a 
little  while  ago  and  she  simply  begged  me  to  trust 
her.  You  see,  I'm  getting  more  and  more  anxious 
about  her.  As  the  time  for  landing  gets  nearer  my 
bride  grows  more  pale,  more  nervous — my  Heaven.' 
more  despairing,"  sighs  the  young  Englishman. 

"  And  my  sweetheart  becomes  more  resolute,  more 
determined.  Bless  her  pluck,  she  is  singing  in  the 
cabin  now !  "  whispers  Mr.  Barnes. 

For,  in  happy  strain,  the  liquid  voice  of  Miss 
Anstruther  floats  up  from  the  companionway  in  an 
English  ballad. 

"  And  yet,"  remarks  her  brother,  gloomily,  "  my 
bride  was  as  brave  as  Enid  is,  before  her  wedding." 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  135 

A  tone  of  consternation  enters  his  voice ;  he  suddenly 
queries :  "  Can  Marina  know  of  some  hidden  danger 
of  which  my  sister  doesn't  dream?  " 

"  Then  you're  not  the  man  I  think  you,"  answers 
Barnes,  almost  savagely,  "  if  you,  her  husband,  don't 
get  it  out  of  her.  Don't  you  see,  you've  got  to 
know ;  that  no  sentimental  reason  should  stand  be 
tween  you  and  everything  that  is  in  your  wife's 
mind,  Edwin  ?  " 

"  All  right,  Marina  shall  tell  me  to-night,"  an 
swers  the  young  sailor,  determinedly.  "  But  there's 
one  thing  we've  got  to  do  first,  that's  to  see  our 
girls  are  mighty  safe  for  the  present.  I've  fixed  it, 
I  think,  pretty  well  with  Graham.  We  leave  the 
cook  and  one  man  aboard  as  anchor  watch,  and  the 
mate  takes  his  Scotch  tars  ashore  and  keeps  careful 
lookout  all  night  about  the  grounds." 

"You've  told  them  I'll  reward  them  liberally?" 
remarks  Barnes. 

"  Oh,  it  didn't  require  money.  Graham  and  the 
rest  of  the  crew  have  kind  of  got  it  into  their  heads 
that  we  are  being  pursued  by  some  murdering  for 
eign  gang  and  the  honest  fellows  from  the  land  o' 
cakes  are  mighty  eager  to  meet  the  Corsican  thugs." 

Here  Enid  stops  the  interview.  "  Are  we  never 
going  on  shore  to  dinner?  "  asks  that  young  lady, 
hungrily,  but  laughingly,  as  she  steps  lightly  on 
deck.  "  I  heard  your  boat,  Burton,"  she  adds. 


136  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Please  help  me  down  the  side  ladder.  Marina  has 
Edwin's  sailor  skill  to  prevent  her  tumbling  into  the 
water.  My,  isn't  he  tender  to  her !  "  This  last  is 
whispered  as  Mrs.  Anstruther,  having  come  on  deck, 
is  half  carried  by  her  husband  down  the  yacht's  side 
to  the  cutter. 

"  Guess  I  can  do  the  ladder  act  as  well  as  he,"  and 
Burton's  clutch  upon  his  coming  bride  as  he  places 
her  in  the  stern  sheets  of  the  boat  is  as  fervid  as  that 
of  the  English  bridegroom. 

As  he  does  this,  Marina's  bright  eyes  staring  at 
him  in  the  half  light,  startle  him.  Some  curious 
occult  meaning  is  in  their  liquid,  passionate  depths. 

To  destroy  the  bride's  melancholy,  Mr.  Barnes 
immediately  tells  the  ladies  how  Tompson  had 
brought  all  their  trunks  with  her  to  Nice;  so  they'll 
have  lots  of  nice  frocks. 

"  How  lucky !  "  cries  Enid,  excitedly.  "  There's 
a  tulle  over  white  satin,  just  the  thing  for  my 

wed "  Bashfulness  stops  the  word;  she  turns 

her  face  from  her  lover's  impassioned  eyes,  and  her 
delicate  fingers  play  with  the  water  as  the  boat  goes 
dashing  on.  But  a  moment  later  she  claps  her  hands 
together  and  ejaculates,  nervously:  "Marina,  get 
excited !  Think  of  all  your  pretty  things  you'll  now 
have  to  fascinate  Edwin  with." 

"  I  had  enough  to  last,"  whispers  the  young  Cor- 
sican  lady  with  a  sigh. 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  137 

"  To  last  till  what ?  "  Barnes  asks  himself  with  a 
start. 

Edwin,  who  is  steering,  has  paid  little  attention 
to  this,  but  this  "  last  till  what?  "  lingers  in  the 
American's  brain.  He  finds  himself  repeating  it  to 
the  rhythm  of  the  oars  as  the  boat  drives  up  to  the 
little  landing  stage. 

To  what  event  does  the  young  Corsican  lady  refer 
that  will  eliminate  a  bride's  wish  to  look  well  in  her 
bridegroom's  eyes  before  even  the  honeymoon  is 
ended  ? 

Miss  Chartris  suddenly  affords  a  solution  to  this 
problem  in  a  way  that  dismays  Barnes.  At  the 
splash  of  the  boat's  oars,  Maud  comes  rushing  down 
to  the  landing  and  cries  eagerly :  "  Bully !  Every 
body  on  shore  quick!  Ma's  got  to  drive  into  Nice 
after  dinner  to  meet  her  new  beau." 

"  Her  new  beau !  How  about  Von  Billow?  "  laughs 
Edwin,  as  he  assists  the  ladies  to  the  landing  stage. 

"  Oh,  Von's  on  the  back  shelf !  "  cries  Maud,  let 
ting  her  tongue  run  away  with  her.  "  Count 
Corregio  Cipriano  Danella  is  now  first  favourite." 

At  the  name,  Marina  quivers  as  if  under  a  blow. 
Then  suddenly  the  nervous  dread  seems  to  leave  her 
dark  eyes  and  the  courage  of  devoted  love  flies  into 
them.  She  starts  from  her  husband's  arm,  to  which 
she  has  been  clinging. 

"  By  Heaven,  Marina  knows  this  Cipriano  Dan- 


138  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

ella  is  the  real  king-pin  of  this  death  feud,"  is 
Barnes's  astute  reflection.  He  notes  that  the  bride's 
head  is  held  on  high;  that  this  delicate  creature 
steps  lightly  but  resolutely  in  front  of  her  stalwart 
sailor  husband  as  if  to  meet  and  shield  him  from 
coming  danger.  Her  impassioned  eyes  affright  the 
American.  "  My  Lord,"  he  shudders,  "  this  devoted 
girl  means  to  sacrifice  herself  in  some  way  for  this 
husband  she  adores.  How?  Eternal  powers,  I  must 
find  what  that  letter  said !  " 

But  Enid  and  Maud,  as  they  step  up  the  path, 
are  now  joking  and  laughing;  the  latter  is  saying 
she's  such  a  good  little  girl  she's  to  come  in  to  des 
sert.  "  Keep  your  nuts  and  raisins  for  me,  every  one 
of  you,"  she  entreats. 

At  this,  Marina  smiles  so  blithely  that  Edwin 
whispers  to  Barnes :  "  Getting  ashore  makes  her 
normal  again." 

Then  after  a  few  words  of  caution  to  Graham 
and  his  tars,  who  tie  up  the  cutter  and  step  ashore 
to  patrol  the  outside  of  the  grounds  till  morning, 
Anstruther  follows  the  rest  of  the  party  to  the  house. 

A  few  minutes  after,  the  ladies  already  dressed 
for  evening  on  the  yacht,  have  thrown  off  their 
wraps  and  are  all  seated  at  the  dinner  table  of  Lady 
Chartris  which,  influenced  by  Mr.  Barnes's  liberal 
purse,  has  become  a  luxurious  one. 

The  attempt  at  youth  in  their  hostess's  appear- 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  139 

ance  seems  to  strike  the  party  simultaneously.  Enid 
gazes  at  the  marvellous  effects  of  Madame  Duval's 
art  upon  her  ancient  subject's  face  and  can  scarce 
restrain  a  merry  snicker. 

Marina,  despite  the  conflicting  emotions  in  her 
heart,  smiles  almost  sadly,  and  proceeds  during  the 
progress  of  the  meal  to  draw  from  Lady  Chartris 
information  of  her  new  cavalier  and  how  Cipriano 
Danella  came  to  visit  her.  "  Did  his  brother's  recent 
death  affect  him  greatly?  "  asks  the  young  bride, 
eagerly. 

"  Oh,"  remarks  Prunella,  "  when  he  begged  to  be 
presented  to  me  in  Marseilles,  the  Count  was  very 
sad,  but " 

"  Cipriano  met  you  in  Marseilles,"  ejaculates 
Barnes,  his  fork  stayed  in  air  over  his  salad. 

"  Yes,  the  day  after  you  left,  the  poor  fellow 
called  to  ask  if  I  knew  the  particulars  of  his  dear 
brother's  death.  You,  having  lately  come  from  Cor 
sica,  he  thought,  might  tell  him.  Under  the  mel 
ancholy  circumstances,  I  deemed  it  advisable  to  say 
to  him  that  you  would  be  at  my  villa  in  Villefranche 
soon  and  would,  of  course,  give  him  the  facts  you 
might  know  in  regard  to  poor  Musso !  He  was  killed 
by  some  bandit  or  other  in  Corsica,  I  understand. 
But  after  the  gallant  Cipriano  met  me  here  on  the 
des  Anglais  three  days  ago,  he — he  didn't  seem  able 
to  talk  about  anyone  else  but  me"  The  widow 


140  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

blushes  slightly,  looks  eagerly  at  the  clock  and  flut 
ters:  "The  only  other  subject  Count  Cipriano 
mentioned  was — was  weddings." 

Edwin  and  Marina  look  at  each  other  very 
solemnly. 

Barnes  plunges  his  fork  disgustedly  into  his  salad 
and  curses  his  half  confidences  to  Lady  Chartris. 
The  retreat  he  had  so  carefully  arranged  for  Enid 
and  Marina  while  he  and  Edwin  should  hunt  down 
the  demons  who  threatened  their  young  lives,  was 
now  by  his  hostess's  babbling  tongue  become  known 
to  their  pursuers. 

He  glances  moodily  at  his  sweetheart.  Miss  An- 
struther's  eyes  and  her  cheeks  are  both  aflame.  As 
if  to  defy  the  dangers  that  are  gathering  about  her 
wedding  day,  she  says  in  resolute  tones :  "  You 
know,  Lady  Chartris,  I  marry  Mr.  Barnes  to-mor 
row,"  and  turns  the  conversation  on  her  coming 
nuptials,  discussing  with  her  hostess  the  necessary 
preparations  for  the  ceremony  the  next  evening. 

Delighted  with  the  courage  and  devotion  of  his 
betrothed,  Mr.  Barnes  remarks  that  Lady  Chartris 
has  kindly  offered  him  a  seat  in  her  carriage  to  drive 
into  Nice  this  evening  to  engage  the  minister. 

With  the  dessert,  Miss  Maud  enters  to  give  life 
and  vivacity  to  the  feast.  She  has  been  put  by  her 
governess  in  evening  infant  dress,  prattles  merrily 
of  the  approaching  nuptials,  suggesting  that  her 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  141 

youthful  ears  have  heard  some  of  the  dinner-table 
conversation  through  the  curtains  that  separate  the 
dining-room  from  the  parlour.  Once  or  twice,  when 
her  mother's  head  is  turned,  obeying  a  nod  surrepti 
tiously  given  her  by  Mr.  Barnes,  she  bolts  a  glass 
of  champagne^  that  is  generally  forbidden  her. 

Inspired  by  the  stimulating  beverage,  Miss  Maud 
suddenly  ejaculates:  "Isn't  it  a  pity  you're  going 
to  be  married  on  the  sneak,  Barnes?  When  I  get 
spliced,  as  you  say,  Cousin  Edwin,  I'm  going  to 
church  with  six  bridesmaids  and  a  train  ten  feet 
long." 

"  My  Heaven,  a  child  of  eleven  thinking  of  mar 
riage,"  laughs  Burton,  adding,  roguishly :  "  Mar 
rying  must  run  in  your  family,  Lady  Chartris." 

"  It  does !  "  cries  the  widow,  excitedly.  Then  to 
correct  the  slip  of  her  tongue,  she  queries,  sternly: 
"Maud,  you're  not  drinking  champagne?" 

"  No,  mamma,"  answers  the  putative  child.  To 
Barnes,  she  whispers :  "  Not  with  her  eyes  on  me," 
giving  him  a  playful  pinch  under  the  table. 

Soon  after  the  party  rises,  and  Enid,  drawing  her 
betrothed  into  the  privacy  of  the  parlour,  whispers: 
"  My  own,  remember  one  of  the  Danellas  is  here. 
Be  careful  for  my  sake."  She  puts  her  fair  arms 
entreatingly  about  his  neck. 

"  I  have  my  pistols,"  answers  Burton,  senten- 
tiously,  and  administers  a  soothing  kiss. 


142  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Stepping  to  Edwin,  he  whispers :  "  Keep  a 
sharper  lookout  than  ever." 

"  Yes,  it's  yardarm  to  yardarm  now,"  answers  the 
sailor. 

Lady  Chartris's  carriage  is  announced. 

"  Help  me  with  my  wraps,  Cousin  Burton,"  cries 
the  widow,  eagerly,  and  seems  anxious  to  be  gone. 

As  Barnes  is  cloaking  Prunella,  Enid  entreats, 
nervously :  "  You  will  come  back  soon  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  by  to-morrow  morning,"  laughs  An- 
struther,  trying  to  make  light  of  her  fears.  "  Jack's 
last  cruise  ashore,  you  know." 

"No  ward-room  jokes  about  my  coming  hus 
band  ! "  commands  his  sister,  indignantly. 

"  Yes,  but  I — I  can't  bring  Burton  home  very 
early,"  says  Lady  Chartris,  in  embarrassed  tone. 
"  You  see  I — I  promised  to  go  to  the  Casino  with — 
with  Count  Cipriano  Danella,"  adding  eagerly: 
"  Couldn't  I  invite  him  to  the  wedding?  " 

"Yes,  bring  him,  please — I  want  to  see  the  gen 
tleman,"  returns  Barnes,  quietly,  his  eyes  growing 
steely. 

Anstruther  looks  astounded  and  Enid  seems 
amazed,  but  the  most  startling  effect  is  produced 
upon  Marina.  Her  delicate  face  grows  of  a  deathly 
pallor,  her  slight  fingers  work  nervously,  but  her 
dark  eyes  begin  to  flame. 

"  Gee,"    remarks   Maud,   the   champagne   making 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES 

her  reckless,  "  you  needn't  look  as  if  you  were  going 
to  execution,  Marina.  Cip  isn't  your  beau." 

"  Maud,  don't  talk  that  way  and  go  to  bed ! " 
commands  her  mother,  severely.  Though  the  widow 
as  she  steps  into  her  victoria  reflects  with  delighted 
horror :  "  These  foreign  brides  are  awful.  Here's 
a  two-weeks'  one  jealous  of  that  fascinating  Count 
Danella,  who's  now  devoted  to  me." 

Barnes  immediately  follows  his  hostess  and  the 
carriage  drives  away  rapidly,  Lady  Chartris  calling 
to  the  driver  to  hurry. 

Miss  Anstruther  gazes  after  it  till  it  disappears 
in  the  shrubbery  leading  to  the  entrance  of  the 
grounds.  Then  with  a  sigh  she  languidly  remarks 
that  she  is  tired  and  will  go  to  bed.  Leaving  Edwin 
and  Marina  in  some  honeymoon  conference  in  the 
parlour  she  steps  up  to  her  chamber  and  gives  her 
maid  a  few  directions  about  her  coming  wedding, 
while  the  abigail  is  disrobing  her ;  but  checks  Tomp- 
son,  who  would  be  loquacious,  directing  her  to  put 
her  in  dressing-gown  as  she  has  some  letters  to 
write. 

The  maid,  however,  has  scarcely  retired  when  there 
comes  a  sharp,  sudden  rapping  on  the  door. 

"  What  is  it?  "  cries  Miss  Anstruther,  and  grasps 
a  pistol  Barnes  has  given  her,  as  they  sailed  into  the 
Villef ranche  harbour,  with  the  suggestion :  "  It  may 
be  useful  some  day." 


144  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

In  answer,  Maud's  excited  voice  through  the  panel 
makes  Miss  Anstruther  laugh.  "  Enid,  I  can't  go 
to  sleep  till  you  let  me  be  your  maid  of  honour  at 
the  wedding." 

"  Can  it  be  we're  making  a  bugaboo  of  this  Cor- 
sican  affair?  "  half  sneers  the  English  girl,  as  she 
puts  the  pistol  down,  and  Maud,  without  waiting  for 
permission,  opens  the  door  and  comes  dashing  in. 
"  I'm  not  going  away  until  you  promise,  Enid," 
chatters  the  child.  "  This  is  the  best  chance  I've 
ever  had  of  getting  into  a  wedding." 

"  If  it  will  please  you,  dear,"  remarks  Enid  affably. 

"  That's  bully,"  cries  Maud ;  "  they  give  brides 
maids  presents,  don't  they? "  This  last  very 
eagerly. 

"  You  sordid  thing,"  cries  Enid  in  nervous  mer 
riment. 

"  You  pretty  thing,"  retorts  Maud,  placing  her 
eyes  upon  Miss  Anstruther,  who,  in  her  dishabille, 
looks  fairy-like.  "  Crackey,  you'll  make  a  corking 
bride.  If  I  was  a  man  wouldn't  I  envy  Barnes?  " 

"  Don't  talk  in  that  way,"  murmurs  the  candidate 
for  matrimony,  bashfully. 

"  All  right,  another  subject,"  laughs  Maud. 

With  this  she  suddenly  breaks  out :  "  Didn't  Ma 
rina  get  on  a  high  horse  when  ma  said  she  was  going 
in  to  meet  Cip  Danella?  She's  jealous  of  him,  I 
reckon." 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  145 

"  Hush !  "  commands  Enid.  "  You  have  the  most 
extraordinary  ideas  for  a  child." 

"Child?  I'm  sixteen!"  cries  Maud,  defiantly. 
Then  repressed  in  one  direction,  the  champagne  that 
is  coursing  through  Miss  Chartris's  brain  breaks 
out  in  another.  "  Anyway,"  she  hints  roguishly, 
"  Barnes  might  find  an  old  sweetheart  this  evening 
if  he  stepped  into  the  Hotel  St.  Petersburg." 

"  Who?  "     The  coming  bride's  voice  is  excited. 

"  Oh,  a  little  girl  isn't  permitted  to  speak  the 
name  of  such  a  lady,"  replies  Maud,  innocently,  "  but 
it  commences  with  a  *  Belle '  and  it  ends  with  a 
«  Blackwood.'  " 

"  My  Heaven,  is  she  here?  " 

"  Gee,  and  Blackie's  in  great  shape,  too.  I  was 
on  the  Promenade  des  Anglais  with  Marston  yes 
terday.  Not  a  woman  to  touch  her  for  beauty. 
Diamonds  to  beat  Starr  &  Mortimer's,  and  that  Mr. 
Ruggles  running  after  her  with  an  open  checkbook 
in  his  hand,  everybody  said." 

"  Then  we'll  leave  her  to  Mr.  Ruggles,"  says 
Enid,  coldly,  though  her  heart  is  beating  wildly. 

"  Oh,  but  she  won't  stick  to  Mr.  Ruggles.  So  I 
thought  I'd  just  give  you  a  hint,  so  that  if  she  cuts 
in  after  you're  married  you'll  know  how  to  fix  her. 
Of  course,  this  evening  you  are  blocked." 

"Blocked,  this  evening?" 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something  that  happened ! " 


146  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Don't  dare  to." 

"  But  I  will,  for  your  sake.  A  note  came  to 
Barnsey  from  her." 

"  A  note  from  that  infamous  creature?  Impos 
sible!" 

"  Impossible?  I  slipped  it  into  Burton's  hand 
just  before  he  went  in  to  dinner,  and  he  slipped  it 
into  his  pocket.  I  saw  the  address;  it  was  in  her 
handwriting." 

"  Liar,  how  do  you  know  La  Blackwood's  hand 
writing?  "  cries  the  tortured  one. 

"  Blackie's  autograph  facsimile  was  published  in 
an  advertisement  of  Lily's  Soap,  in  the  London 
Gossip  last  month.  '  I  recommend  your  soap  for  its 
unblemished  purity,'  she  wrote.  Thunder,  how  I 
laughed  at  that  ad.  But  you  want  to  take  this 
seriously,  you  do,  Enid,  and  not  giggle  hysterically, 
as  you  are  now.  Ouch !  Oh  good  Lordy,  be  careful, 
you  are  pinching  my  arm ! " 

"  Very  well,  I  will,"  says  the  young  lady,  whose 
face  has  become  that  of  a  marble  statue,  lighted  by 
two  burning,  tortured  eyes.  "  Now  to  bed,  you 
meddler,  and  not  a  word  of  this  to  anyone  on  earth, 
or  you  know  what  I  know  and  will  tell  your  mother." 

"  Jingo,  not  about " 

"Yes!" 

And  Maud  retires  subdued,  but  she  leaves  con 
vulsed  features,  clenched  hands  and  a  dizzy  brain 


MAUD'S    CONFIDENCES  147 

behind  her.  Miss  Anstruther  sighs :  "  Oh,  if  he 
dares  to  see  her !  "  then  murmurs,  "  No,  no,  impossi- 
sible!  He's  gone  to  get  the  minister  for  to-morrow 
— to  wed  me." 

Yet  several  burning  tears  run  down  the  fair  cheeks 
of  the  coming  bride  as  she  tosses  herself  into  bed 
and  cannot  go  to  sleep. 

Unconscious  of  Maud's  unfortunate  hints,  Mr. 
Barnes  drives  into  Nice  chatting  to  Lady  Chartris, 
to  encounter  a  danger  not  from  an  assassin,  but  from 
a  woman. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

A    NIGHT   IN    NICE 

THE  drive  to  Nice  is  not  only  a  short  but  pleasant 
one.  Mr.  Barnes,  with  revolvers  ready  for  emer 
gency,  seated  by  Lady  Chartris,  though  chatting 
alertly,  keeps  both  his  eyes  and  his  ears  open. 

Their  route  is  over  the  pretty  forest  road  that 
crosses  the  little  promontory  of  Mont  Boron,  driv 
ing  between  detached  villas,  and  in  many  cases  open 
vegetable  gardens  and  little  vineyards,  for  Ville- 
franche  was  much  more  apart  from  Nice  in  1883 
than  it  is  at  present.  Once  or  twice  the  American 
listens  intently,  he  thinks  he  hears  pursuing  hoofs. 
But  these  blend  into  the  noises  of  general  traffic  as 
they  reach  and  pass  through  the  old  town.  Cross 
ing  the  river  by  the  Pont  Neuf  and  turning  down 
the  Quai  St.  Jean,  they  drive  along  the  Avenue  Mas- 
sena  nearly  to  the  sea. 

The  town  looks  bright  and  alert  this  lovely  even 
ing,  having  nearly  recovered  from  its  conflagration 
of  1881. 

Though  visitors  have  for  the  last  month  been 
leaving  the  great  watering  place  by  the  Mediterra 
nean,  there  are  still  enough  sojourners  to  comfort- 

148 


A    NIGHT    IN    NICE  149 

ably  fill  the  public  gardens.  The  band  is  playing, 
the  night  is  only  pleasantly  warm,  and  Lady  Char- 
tris  seems  in  high  spirits  as  Barnes  says  to  her: 
"  You  can  drop  me  anywhere  now.  Only,  where 
shall  I  meet  you  ?  " 

"  At  the  Hotel  de  la  Mediterranee.  There  Count 
Danella  is  doubtless  waiting  for  me,"  replies  the 
hostess.  "  Call  for  me  at  eleven  and  I'll  drive  you 
back." 

Barnes  alights  and,  as  he  glances  at  the  neigh 
bouring  Hotel  des  Anglais,  he  recollects  this  had  been 
the  scene  of  his  first  call  upon  Enid  when  Lady  Char- 
tris  had  invited  him  to  accompany  her  and  her 
charge  to  Monte  Carlo.  He  can  scarce  believe  it  is 
only  a  month  ago  since  he  had  looked  in  her  face. 
His  step  grows  light  with  happiness.  To-morrow 
Enid  will  be  his,  thinks  the  young  man  as  he  passes 
Russian  countesses,  an  Austrian  arch-duchess  and 
several  visiting  English,  American  and  French 
ladies  and  gentlemen  who  in  light  summer  costumes 
are  chatting  pleasantly  near  the  bandstand  of  the 
public  gardens. 

The  brilliant  music  of  its  orchestra,  which  is  play 
ing  a  polka,  catches  his  ear.  The  gay  dresses  of 
the  fashionable  loiterers  from  the  four  quarters  of 
the  world  and  their  frivolous  gaiety  seem  to  pro 
claim  that  mediaeval  assassination  is  far  apart  from 
the  modern  Nineteenth  Century. 


150  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Suddenly  somebody  mentions  the  name  of  the  fas 
cinating  American  adventuress,  a  Parisian  countess 
is  saying  to  a  lady  friend  :  "  That  La  Blackwood 
crushes  us  with  her  toilettes.  Did  you  ever  see  such 
a  robe  as  the  wretch  sported  to-day  ?  " 

"  By  Jove,  that  reminds  me.  I  wonder  what 
Sally  has  to  say  to  me?  "  thinks  Burton,  and  pulls 
out  an  almost  forgotten  note  from  his  pocket. 

A  big  arc  light,  which  was  the  great  illuminating 
medium  of  that  epoch,  permits  him  to  read: 


CHER  BARNES: 

"Don't  hold  your  horses,  but  come  to  me  at  the  St.  Peters 
burg  like  a  shot.  I  want  to  warn  you  of  a  very  imminent 
danger.  I  have  just  discovered  your  location  here  by  accident. 
Don't  think  I  hate  you,  though  I  ought  to. 

"  Yours    sincerely, 

"  SALLY    SPOTTS." 

"Will  that  woman  never  let  me  alone?"  thinks 
the  American,  and  pushes  the  note  back  in  his  pocket. 
"  I'll  forget  Sally  Spotts  forever  by  going  and  see 
ing  the  minister." 

He  turns  up  the  Avenue  de  La  Gare,  whistling 
softly.  Going  to  see  the  minister  produces  a  pecu 
liar  and  curious  feeling.  Man  of  the  world  as  he 
is,  he  grows  bashful  about  it.  A  few  minutes'  walk 
and  he  is  at  the  Avenue  Notre  Dame.  But  at  the 
entrance  to  the  residence  of  the  divine,  a  suspicion 
enters  his  mind  that  he  is  being  followed. 

He  makes  his  interview  with  the  minister  of  the 


A    NIGHT    IN    NICE  151 

Church  of  England  a  very  short  one,  and  coming 
rapidly  out  of  the  house,  his  quick  eyes  perceive 
two  men  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  These 
turn  casually  toward  the  traffic  of  the  busy  avenue 
from  the  railroad  station  and  are  lost  in  the  crowd 
from  an  arriving  train.  One  of  them  is  on  horse 
back.  Can  it  be  that  this  fellow  has  followed  him 
from  Lady  Chartris's  villa? 

Now  that  his  footsteps  are  being  dogged,  he 
thinks  he  had  better  see  Perrier,  the  French  detec 
tive  recommended  by  the  Pinkerton  man.  There 
fore,  keeping  his  eyes  about  him  sharp  at  any  dark 
corners  of  the  streets,  he  walks  to  the  Rue  Palermo, 
and  rings  the  bell  at  the  house  mentioned  in  Emory's 
letter. 

Here  an  old  woman  concierge  informs  him  that 
Monsieur  Perrier's  room  is  number  four  on  the 
second  floor.  She  takes  up  his  card  and  astonishes 
him  by  returning  almost  immediately  and  saying 
that  Monsieur  Perrier  is  out. 

"  Nonsense,  I  heard  somebody  speak  to  you.  My 
business  is  of  such  importance  that  I  must  see  him," 
and  Barnes,  pushing  his  way  to  number  four  on  the 
second  floor,  is  confronted  at  the  door  of  this  apart 
ment  by  a  man  of  very  brisk  manner,  sharp,  pene 
trating  eyes  and  a  nose  whose  peculiar  aquiline 
formation  impresses  itself  on  Barnes's  memory. 

"  In   order  to   avoid   any  mistake,"  whispers  the 


152  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

American,    "  I    simply    mention    to    you    the    word 
*  Vendetta.'  " 

"  And  I  simply  reply  Marseilles,'  "  answers  the 
man,  "  but  I  don't  wish  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  the  affair." 

"You  are  Monsieur  Perrier?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  you  know  by  my  returning  the 
word  of  recognition  to  you,"  remarks  the  French 
man,  about  to  close  his  door,  politely,  but  firmly. 

But  Barnes  presses  into  the  room  with  him  and 
says :  "  I  must  have  a  reason  for  your  declining  to 
aid  me.  This  matter  is  too  important  for  you  not 
to  listen  to  me." 

"  I  have  been  informed,"  answers  Perrier,  "  by 
my  poor  friend  Emory's  letters  of  this  peculiar 
and  most  unfortunate  affair,  but  I  do  not  wish  to 
engage  in  it." 

"  Why  not?  "  asks  Barnes,  shortly.  "  Don't  you 
think  I  have  money  to  pay  for  it?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  know  Monsieur  is  rich,"  answers 
the  Frenchman,  deprecatingly.  "  But  my  life  is 
my  only  asset.  I  have  a  wife  and  children.  I  saw  one 
vendetta  in  Corsica  a  few  years  ago,  and  I  don't  want 
to  get  into  another  cat  fight  where  cats  are  armed 
with  stilettos.  I  decline  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  it  except  to  say  to  you  that  the  whole  commune 
of  Bocognano,  Corsica,  think  you  and  the  English 
Lieutenant  Anstruther  came  there  not  only  to  wed 


A    NIGHT    IN    NICE  153 

Mademoiselle  Paoli  to  her  brother's  murderer,  but 
incidentally  produced  the  death  of  Count  Musso 
Danella  and  old  Tomasso  Monaldi.  Your  enemies 
already  know  your  location  at  Villefranche,  Ber 
nardo  Saliceti  has  come  from  Corsica  hoping  to  win 
the  election  in  his  island  by  vengeance  upon  you. 
He  and  Enrico  Danella,  the  dead  Musso's  nephew, 
are  in  Nice." 

"  Has  Enrico  a  scar  upon  his  forehead  over  his 
left  eye?"  asks  Barnes,  eagerly. 

"  He  has." 

"  Then  I've  the  name  of  the  scar-faced  gentleman, 
thank  you,"  remarks  Burton.  "  Now  it  is  neces 
sary  you  come  into  this  affair,  Perrier.  You've  got 
to  aid  not  only  me,  but  two  women." 

The  answer  that  comes  causes  Barnes  to  look 
aghast. 

"  I  dare  not,"  answers  Perrier,  shortly.  "  The 
fate  of  my  poor  friend  Emory  is  too  horrible." 

"Fate!     What  fate?" 

"  Why,  he  was  to  be  here  two  days  ago,  according 
to  his  letters  to  me,  to  arrange  for  guarding  your 
villa.  He  is  not  here  even  to-day.  His  last  note 
from  St.  Tropez  indicated  he  was  close  upon  the 
track  of  those  who  have  sworn  this  blood  feud 
against  you — and  oil  who  aid  you.  That  letter 
was  written  four  days  ago  and — what  has  become 
of  Emory?" 


154  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  How  can  I  tell? "  mutters  the  American, 
gloomily. 

"  But  I  can,"  answers  the  private  detective. 
"  Madame  Blackwood,  for  whom  I  have  executed 
some  little  commissions,  called  on  me  two  days  ago 
excitedly.  *  Perrier,'  she  said,  in  her  American 
abruptness,  '  I  want  you  to  bring  to  justice  some 
villains  who  murdered  a  Yankee  detective  named 
Emory,  the  other  day  near  St.  Tropez.'  '  You  saw 
him  killed?  '  I  asked.  '  No,  but  I've  got  evidence 
— a  few  words  from — '  she  checked  herself;  but 
added,  '  I  don't  dare  to  tell  Mr.  Ruggles  of  this ; 
he's  so  impulsive  he'd  spend  his  money  and  his  blood, 
too,  to  bring  a  murderer  of  one  of  his  countrymen 
to  justice.  So  you  just  go  on  and  get  the  evidence 
against  these  fellows  and  trot  them  to  the  guillotine.' 
But  the  fate  of  Emory  warned  me,  I  determined  to 
give  up  the  whole  affair,"  adds  Perrier. 

"  Thank  you  again,"  sneers  Barnes,  and  coming 
out  the  American  laughs  to  himself :  "  This  detec 
tive  should  catch  flies  on  honey,  not  men  with  arms 
in  their  hands.  I'll  try  what  the  public  officers  of 
the  French  Government  can  do  next  time." 

But  the  mention  of  Madame  Blackwood  reminds 
him  of  her  letter.  "  By  George,  Sally's  note  hinted 
at  grave  danger  to  me.  It  must  be  this  Emory 
business !  "  and  without  more  ado  Mr.  Barnes,  hur- 


A    NIGHT    IN    NICE  155 

riedly  keeping  his  eyes  alert  for  sudden  daggers, 
makes  his  way  to  the  promenade  by  the  sea  and 
shortly  after  enters  the  luxurious  Hotel  St. 
Petersburg. 

It  is  ten  in  the  evening.  He  is  about  to  send  up 
his  card  to  Madame  Blackwood  and  request  an  inter 
view  when  that  siren  enters  magnificent  in  a  summer 
toilette  of  satins  and  laces  and  a  hat  to  match,  the 
same  constructed  at  great  cost  by  Monsieur  Worth, 
of  Paris.  As  she  comes  in  by  the  ladies'  entrance, 
the  Kansas  cattle  king,  who  attends  her,  chances  to 
glance  into  the  office  and  calls  out :  "  Whew,  Barnes, 
that  was  a  right  lucky  address  you  gave  me  in  Paris 
five  weeks  ago,"  and,  taking  him  aside,  whispers, 
"  I  caught  the  lady.  The  goods  came  high,  but 
they're  worth  the  money.  Step  up  and  have  supper 
with  us." 

This  invitation  Barnes  finds  it  impossible  to 
politely  decline,  as  Sally  Blackwood  has  already  put 
her  beautiful  eyes  upon  him  and  said :  "  So  glad 
you're  here.  You  mustn't  refuse.  We  saw  so 
little  of  you  in  Monte  Carlo."  There  is  a  slight 
sneer  upon  her  face,  which  shows  the  lady  hasn't 
forgotten  the  peculiar  interview  with  Barnes  when 
he  had  prevented  the  arrogant  adventuress  from 
kissing  Enid. 

But   the   lady   laughs   rather   good-naturedly    as 


156  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

the  cattle  king  continues :  "  You  see,  Sally  was  quite 
rheumaticky  up  at  Monte  Carlo.  The  air  didn't 
agree  with  her,  so  we  couldn't  remain." 

A  moment  later  Barnes  finds  himself  ushered  into 
La  Blackwood's  private  parlour,  where  a  supper 
after  the  manner  of  Lucullus  is  shortly  served  to 
them,  the  wines  being  of  the  very  finest  vintages 
and  the  cigars  "  the  best  in  France,"  as  Ruggles 
remarks. 

Several  times  Burton  is  about  to  hint  at  the  pur 
port  of  her  note,  but  the  expressive  eyes  of  the 
adventuress  warn  him  to  hold  his  tongue.  Coffee, 
however,  is  no  sooner  served  than  the  fascinating 
creature  says  languidly,  but  commandingly :  "  Now, 
Dan,  supposing  you  run  downstairs  and  have  your 
smoke  there.  I  want  to  talk  with  Mr.  Barnes  of 
New  York — something  I  don't  want  you  to  hear. 
That  needn't  make  you  jealous — it's  about  my 
parents  in  Ohio." 

"  All  right,  Duckie.  Yours  to  command  always," 
returns  the  cattle  king,  who,  as  he  lights  his  big 
perfecto  and  saunters  to  the  smoking-room  of  the 
hotel,  grins  to  himself :  "  Gee  whiz,  Sally  can  twist 
me  round  her  finger  a  good  deal  easier  than  Mir- 
andie."  Mirandie  is  the  absent  Mrs.  Ruggles  in 
London. 

The  minute  the  cattle  king  disappears  the  lady's 
manner  changes.  She  cries  airily :  "  Light  a  cigar- 


A    NIGHT    IN    NICE  157 

ette  for  me,  old  boy  " ;  then  asks  half  playfully,  half 
menacingly:  "  Guess  what  made  me  write  to  you?  " 

"  Hate,"  mutters  Barnes,  between  puffs  of  his 
cigarette. 

"  No,  though  I  ought  to  hate  you.  Oh,  that  was 
cruel  in  you,  that  threat  to  tell  my  mother  and  my 
father." 

"  But  you  knew  if  you  kept  your  contract,  I'd 
keep  your  secret,"  answers  Barnes. 

"Yes!  Still  it  wasn't  love,  either,"  laughs  the 
lady.  "  I've  given  up  the  tender  passion ;  it's  too 
tiresome,"  she  sighs,  as  she  languidly  extends  upon 
an  armchair  a  figure  that  had  made  the  fortune  of 
the  artist  who  painted  her  portrait  for  the  Paris 
Salon.  "  I  let  other  people  love  me,  like  Dan  down 
there.  What  I  want  to  see  you  about —  '  La 
Blackwood's  eyes  become  intense  and  her  voice  falls 
to  a  whisper — "  is  to  save  your  life — if  I  can. 
Do  you  know  that  half  of  a  commune  in  Corsica 
want  your  blood?  " 

"  I've  guessed  it  in  the  last  few  days,"  observes 
Barnes  grimly. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  a  certain  Count 
Cipriano  Danella?  " 

"  Never  have  seen  him." 

"No,  but  you've  heard  of  him?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  a  brother  of  the  Danella  who  was 
killed  in  Corsica." 


158  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Yes.  Now,  this  gentleman,  who  is  a  very  good 
man  and  very  tender-hearted,  obtained  an  intro 
duction  to  me  about  three  days  ago  on  the  des 
Anglais.  From  some  words  of  a  Lady  Chartris,  a 
cousin  of  yours,  he  has  learned  that  you  are  to 
marry  very  shortly  the  pretty  girl  whose  lips  I 
threatened  to  kiss  at  Monte  Carlo.  Well,  this 
Cipriano  Danella,  who  looks  quite  romantic  in  his 
Corsican  mourning,  while  making  love  to  me  till 
Dan  got  jealous,"  she  laughs  slightly,  "  hinted 
to  me  that  it  would  be  very  unfortunate  for  Miss 
Anstruther  should  she  become  Mrs.  Barnes  of  New 
York;  that,  as  your  wife,  she  would  be  drawn  into 
this  blood  feud  that  has  been  declared  against  you. 
*  Now,'  suggested  Count  Cipriano,  '  you  are  the  lady 
best  fitted  by  past  friendship  and  present  charm,  to 
prevent  this  danger  to  the  pretty  English  girl,  by 
destroying  the  wedding.' ' 

"You  brought  me  here  for  this?"  says  Burton, 
his  eyes  growing  angry. 

"  Wait !  Listen !  I  have  prevented  a  good  many 
weddings  in  my  life,"  sighs  the  siren,  almost  re 
morsefully,  "  but  I  don't  want  to  prevent  yours, 
Barnes.  As  an  American,  my  desire  is  to  protect 
you  from  death.  I  appeared  to  accede  to  Cipriano's 
request  to  fascinate  you  again.  I  wonder  if  I  could 
do  it?  "  She  looks  at  him  roguishly  and  laughs 
through  her  white  teeth.  "  Don't  be  frightened  of 


A    NIGHT    IN    NICE  159 

me.  So  I  pumped  the  romantic  Corsican,  who  made 
half  love  to  me  while  he  tried  to  persuade  me.  You 
know  I've  got  rather  a  fascinating  way  with  me  of 
causing  gentlemen's  tongues  to  be  careless,  and  I 
found  out  that  not  only  was  the  commune  of  Boco — 
Bocognano  or  something  of  that  kind — anxious  for 
your  blood,  but  that  several  gentlemen  from  that 
neighbourhood  were  here  in  order  to  obtain  it,  and 
to  make  their  task  easy,  they  had  done  up  in  some 
way  or  other  a  detective  you  had  employed  to  shadow 
them,  a  Yankee  named  Emory,  I  believe.  I  remem 
ber  him,  a  Pinkerton  man  who  did  some  work  for 
me  about  a  lost  diamond  stolen  by  a  chambermaid 
two  or  three  years  ago  at  Cannes.  Therefore,  I 
said  to  myself :  '  I'll  take  care  if  possible  to  inform 
Mr.  Barnes  of  the  dangers  that  surround  him,  and 
if  he  is  the  man  I  think  him,  he  is  about  as  well  able 
to  protect  himself  and  his  coming  bride  as  anyone 
I  know.'  Keep  up  the  pistol  practice,  Burton;  it 
may  be  useful.  Have  another  cigarette?  " 

"  Hold  up  a  moment.  I  want  to  ask  you  a  ques 
tion,"  interrupts  Barnes.  "  What  makes  you  think 
these  devils  have  done  up  poor  Emory  ?  " 

"  Well,  a  careless  expression  of  Count  Danella — 
only  this :  '  He  won't  bother  them  again,'  something 
of  that  kind  from  Cipriano." 

"'Bother  them  again?'  Bother  him  again,  you 
mean." 


160  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Oh,  no,  all  the  Count's  conversation  with  me 
has  been  that  of  a  rank  outsider  trying  to  prevent 
the  beautiful  English  girl's  happiness,  perhaps  life, 
being  destroyed  by  mating  you." 

"  He  shall  find  how  much  I'll  give  him  my  thanks," 
mutters  Barnes.  "  But — but  I  must  be  going. 
I'm  deeply  grateful  to  you."  Burton  rises.  "  Mr. 
Ruggles " 

"  Don't  be  afraid.  Dan  won't  be  jealous  even 
if  we  talk  a  little  longer.  Aren't  you  going  to  give 
me  a  kiss  for  my  information — just  one,  a  good-by 
one?  " 

The  lovely  eyes  of  Sally  Blackwood  fill  with  tears. 

"  No,"  answers  the  man  of  the  world,  "  not  that 
I  don't  think  your  lips  are  tempting  enough,  but 
when  I  became  engaged  to  Miss  Anstruther  I  said, 
*  I'll  never  do  anything  to  make  my  fiancee  un 
happy.'  Though  Enid's  a  girl  of  broad  mind,  I 
don't  think  she  would  quite  like  it." 

"  Ah,  always  a  preux  chevalier.  Very  well,  we'll 
only  shake  hands."  She  extends  to  him  her  beau 
tifully  formed  white  fingers  dazzling  with  rings. 
"  Good-by,  I  hope  you'll  be  happy  on  your  wedding 
trip,  but  don't  let  love  make  you  careless,  mon 
Bayard." 

Barnes  takes  her  hint.  His  pistol  is  ready  as  he 
throws  open  the  door  of  her  apartment  and  passes 
cautiously  out ;  so  all  the  way  down  the  stairs  of  the 


A    NIGHT    IN    NICE  161 

hotel  he  is  careful  as  to  corners,  and  out  on  the 
street,  well  peopled  as  is  the  Des  Anglais,  the  Ameri 
can  has  a  wary  eye  about  him.  Lady  Chartris  has 
doubtless  told  Cipriano  Danella  of  his  visit  to  Nice 
and  that  he  returns  with  her  to  her  villa  this  even 
ing.  He  therefore  breaks  his  appointment  with 
Prunella  and  taking  a  hired  carriage  watches  till 
the  lady,  tired  of  waiting,  drives  angrily  home,  then 
jogs  along  a  few  hundred  yards  behind  her,  ready 
for  any  emergency.  But  nothing  of  a  threatening 
nature  is  seen. 

As  the  vehicle  enters  the  grounds  of  the  villa, 
the  sight  of  a  Scotch  tar  on  the  lookout  gives  the 
coming  bridegroom  confidence  in  the  sailor's  watch. 
Edwin  is  waiting  to  let  him  in.  The  lieutenant  says, 
sleepily :  "  I  was  growing  anxious  about  you,  after 
I  admitted  Cousin  Prunella  and  she  angrily  stated 
she  would  never  wait  for  you  again.  Driving  home, 
she  had  a  big  fright,  two  men  looked  into  her  car 
riage  and  went  away  muttering  in  Italian,  she  said." 

But  this  looking  over  the  shoulder  business  makes 
Mr.  Barnes  resolve  to  bring  the  affair  to  a  climax 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

As  he  wakes  up  in  the  morning,  notwithstanding 
the  thought  that  it  is  his  wedding  day  is  dominant 
in  his  mind,  he  reflects  over  the  matter.  What  has 
this  Cipriano  Danella  done  except  to  arouse  his 
suspicions?  "Even  the  Count's  conversation  with 


162  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

la  Belle  Blackwood  didn't  disclose  that  he  meditated 
any  attack  upon  me  or  my  bride,"  he  reflects, 
moodily,  "  only  that  Cipriano  wished  to  prevent  an 
innocent  young  girl  being  drawn  into  this  frightful 
feud.  Hang  it,  I  can't  shoot  the  cuss  on  suspicion 
— and  yet!"  The  American  closes  his  jaw  with  a 
snap  and  goes  down  to  breakfast,  to  meet  as  charm 
ing  a  bride  as  the  sun  has  shone  upon. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE     COMING     OF     DANELLA 

AT  the  morning  meal  Barnes  finds  the  rest  of  the 
party  growing  excited  over  the  approaching  cere 
mony,  and  Maud  telling  them  about  her  maid-of- 
honour  dress.  "  You'll  have  to  lend  me  a  pair  of  silk 
stockings,  Enid,"  cries  the  putative  infant.  "  I 
don't  think  I  have  any  bang  up  enough  for  the  cere 
mony.  They  should  be  corkers.  Mine  show,  yours 
don't." 

This  oration  is  interrupted  by  Lady  Chartris 
saying,  insinuatingly :  "  Cousin  Burton,  you  must 
have  had  a  pretty  long  chat  with  the  minister,  I 
waited  for  you  last  evening  till  half-past  eleven." 

A  sly  giggle  from  Maud  sets  Enid's  blue  eyes 
ablaze,  though  there's  a  whimper  on  her  sweet  lips. 

"  Yes,  lots  of  details,"  replies  Barnes,  casually. 
"  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  outing  with  Cip,  Cousin 
Prunella?" 

"  Of  course   I  did,  with  such  a  cavalier." 

"You  invited  Count  Danella  to  my  wedding?" 
asks  the  American,  abruptly. 

"  Of  course  I  did,"  cries  the  widow,  rapturously. 
66  He  accepted  immediately ;  said  he  was  very  anxious 
to  meet  you." 

163 


164.  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  The  pleasure  will  be  mutual,"  observes  Burton, 
grimly. 

Enid  and  her  brother  look  at  each  other  solemnly, 
but  Marina's  face,  when  she  learns  that  Cipriano 
Danella  has  accepted  the  invitation  to  the  nuptials, 
becomes  so  serious  that  Barnes,  after  breakfast, 
takes  her  husband  aside  and  says :  "  Have  you  found 
out  about  that  accursed  letter?  " 

"  No,  she  begged  me  not  to  ask  her.  She  sobbed 
it  was  for  my  happiness  that  I  didn't  know.  You'll 
soon  discover,  Barnes,"  remarks  Edwin  moodily, 
"  that  you  cannot  do  much  with  a  bride  when  she 
turns  on  the  hose  and  washes  the  matrimonial 
decks." 

This  reminds  Burton  that  he  had  better  not  start 
his  married  life  with  a  secret,  and  getting  Enid 
alone  with  him,  which  isn't  very  difficult,  he  briefly 
but  pointedly  tells  his  fiancee  of  his  interview  with  la 
Belle  Blackwood. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  told  me — so  glad  she's 
not  all  bad !  "  exclaims  the  girl,  rewarding  him  with 
so  rapturous  a  kiss  that  he  is  delighted  he  refused 
Sally's  farewell  salute.  "  I — I  learned  from  Maud 
that  you  had  received  a  letter  from  her,"  she  adds, 
hesitatingly. 

"  You  didn't  doubt  me? "  This  issues  in  stern 
reproach  from  the  lips  of  the  American. 

"  Oh,  no,  but — but  no  secrets  from  me,  please," 


THE    COMING    OF    DANELLA  165 

she  entreats.  "  There's  no  real  love  without  a  little 
jealousy";  then  shudders:  "And  so  those  villains 
killed  poor  Emory?" 

"  I'm  afraid  so,"  answers  her  lover,  and  his  tone 
grows  very  solemn.  "  You  see  how  remorselessly, 
how  craftily  we  are  pursued,  that  the  haven  of  safety 
I  had  planned  for  you,  dear  one,  when  I  left  you  to 
put  those  devils  forever  out  of  the  way,  is  now  known 
to  them.  You  remember  the  awful  threat  against 
any  woman  who  weds  me.  You've — you've  no  wish 
to  delay  our  marriage?  "  His  eyes  are  very  eager. 

Her  eyes  answer  his  with  equal  passion.  "  No, 
on  the  contrary,"  answers  the  resolute  English  girl, 
"  I  am  resolved  more  than  ever.  The  petty  threats 
of  your  enemies  shall  not  rob  me  of  you ! "  Her 
kisses  stay  any  further  remonstrances. 

"  Then  may  God  never  forgive  me  if  I  don't  save 
you  from  all  harm,"  mutters  the  coming  husband. 
A  moment  after  he  whispers :  "  Yet  we  must  take  all 
precautions.  Just  try  and  see  if  you  cannot  do 
better  than  your  brother." 

"How?"  asks  Enid,  eagerly. 

"  The  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  that  letter  to 
Marina  may  be  vital,  not  only  for  the  happiness  of 
her  husband  and  herself,  but  perhaps  to  the  safety  of 
all  of  us.  Take  her  out  under  the  oleanders,  sit 
by  her  and  see  if  you  cannot  in  some  woman's  way 
get  the  information  of  what  it  contained." 


166  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

About  an  hour  after  this,  Enid  returns  and  re 
marks  disappointedly :  "  Not  a  word  from  Marina 
except  that  it  was  something  entirely  between  her 
and  her  husband;  that  we  would  discover  some  day. 
But  I  must  leave  you,  Burton;  I  have  lots  to  do 
— an  impromptu  wedding  gown."  Then  she  blush- 
ingly  asks :  "  Where  are  you  going  to  take  me  after 
marriage?  " 

This  is  a  proposition  upon  which  Barnes  has  been 
racking  his  brain.  He  says,  meditatively :  "  Sup 
posing  you  and  I  go  out  on  the  yacht?  " 

"What,  alone  together?     Delightful,  romantic!" 

"  Not  entirely.  I  shall  take  Graham  and  three 
seamen,  to  sail  the  schooner." 

"And  my  brother  and  Marina?"  asks  Enid, 
anxiously. 

"  Oh,  I  have  faith  enough  in  your  brother  to 
think  that  with  the  rest  of  the  Scotch  sailor  laddies 
he  can  keep  this  house  safe  against  intrusion  till 
we  come  back.  We'll  only  be  away  two  or  three 
days." 

"  Two  or  three  days  of  happiness,"  whispers  the 
girl,  radiantly,  and  runs  away  to  prepare  for  her 
coming  nuptials. 

Barnes's  own  preparations  occupy  him  most  of 
the  time  till  the  ceremony,  though  he  contrives  to 
discuss  his  yatching  plans  with  Edwin. 

"  All   right,"    answers   the   sailor,   "  Graham   can 


THE    COMING    OF    DANELLA  167 

take  care  of  the  schooner  as  well  as  I.  You  leave 
me  the  balance  of  the  jackies  and  I'll  guarantee 
everything's  all  a-taut  here  when  you  come  into 
port.  I  shall  take  no  cruises  into  Nice.  I  have 
enough  here  to  make  me  happy." 

"  If  Emory  should  by  any  chance  turn  up,"  re 
marks  Barnes,  "  keep  him  with  you  to  help  you." 

So  the  day  passes.  The  American  has  already 
arranged  the  matter  with  Graham  and  directed  that 
after  the  nuptials  the  mate  shall  go  on  board  the 
Wildfowl  and  sail  her  for  his  wedding  cruise. 

They  are  interrupted  by  the  French  cook,  who 
has  come  on  shore  in  the  dingy  bearing  a  magnifi 
cent  wedding  cake  that  he  has  manufactured  in 
the  schooner's  galley.  "  My  offering  to  your  bride," 
remarks  the  culinary  artist.  "  This  will  be  the 
crowning  glory  of  your  noces,  Monsieur  Barnes.  I 
am  to  cook  for  you  on  your  wedding  cruise.  I  must 
walk  into  Villefranche  to  get  supplies." 

The  American  is  minded  to  call  him  back  and 
caution  the  little  fellow  to  have  a  quiet  tongue,  but 
Maud  breaks  in  upon  him  in  all  the  glories  of  her 
child  maid-of-honour  frock,  crying:  "The  notary  is 
here  and  the  minister  has  arrived." 

Soon  after  the  party  assembles  in  the  parlour, 
which  has  been  decked  with  the  flowers  of  Southern 
France,  and  Miss  Anstruther  comes  down  to  them 
looking  in  her  fresh  beauty,  with  her  modest  blue 


168  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

eyes  filled  with  love,  very  bridelike.  She  is  in  an 
exquisite  summer  yachting  costume,  all  lace  and 
sheer  muslin,  through  which  her  fair  arms  and 
shoulders  gleam  like  chiselled  ivory.  A  hat  of  white 
plumes  and  ribbons  graces  her  golden  hair. 

"  I  didn't  put  on  an  evening  gown,"  she  whis 
pers,  "  so  I'm  ready  to  go  on  board,  Burton,  im 
mediately  after  the  ceremony." 

"  My  Heavens,  no  bridal  veil,"  flutters  Lady 
Chartris ;  then  she  cries  in  a  tone  of  dismay ;  "And 
Count  Cipriano  is  late." 

But  without  waiting  for  him,  the  English  divine 
having  made  the  necessary  official  arrangements  as 
prescribed  by  the  French  law,  the  civil  contract  is 
hastily  signed  before  the  notary,  Edwin  acting  as 
Enid's  guardian  and  giving  his  formal  consent. 

"  Oh,  goodness  gracious,  where  can  Count 
Danella  be?  "  ejaculates  the  hostess  again. 

But  the  minister  is  awaiting  them. 

Then  what  is  to  Miss  Anstruther  her  real  wedding 
begins,  the  sacrament  of  the  English  Church.  She 
standing  before  the  divine,  giving  her  assent  mod 
estly  but  very  firmly,  Barnes  making  the  responses 
ardently  and  determinedly,  and  thinking  even  as  he 
puts  the  ring  upon  his  bride's  finger :  "  It  is  a  kind 
of  curious  feeling,  getting  married  with  a  revolver 
in  your  hip  pocket  ready  for  business." 

A   moment    later   the   usual   congratulations    and 


THE    COMING    OF    DANELLA  169 

kisses  have  been  given,  the  party  are  about  to  turn 
to  the  dining-room,  where  the  wedding  supper  is 
spread,  there  to  drink  the  bride's  health  before  she 
flits  away. 

But  their  steps  are  stayed  by  the  sound  of  pranc 
ing  steeds  announcing  the  coming  of  the  belated  yet 
only  invited  guest.  "  Oh,  at  last !  But  you  are 
late,"  cries  Prunella,  ecstatically,  as  she  runs  into 
the  hall.  "  Just  time,  Count  Cipriano,  to  toast  the 
bride." 

"  Yes,  an  unfortunate  accident  to  my  horses*" 
enters  to  them  in  a  soft,  Southern  voice  from  the 
hallway,  where  Prunella  is  interviewing  the  cavalier 
she  has  been  waiting  for  so  eagerly. 

As  this  takes  place,  Edwin  whispers :  "  I'll  keep 
my  eye  on  the  beggar." 

"  And  I'll  talk  to  the  gentleman  as  soon  as  I  can 
get  a  chance,  and  if  he  doesn't  give  me  a  clean  bill 
of  health " 

The  rest  of  Barnes's  speech  is  interrupted  by  the 
entry  of  the  object  of  their  suspicions.  Count 
Cipriano  greets  the  company  with  extreme  polite 
ness  but  almost  nonchalantly,  only  as  lie  is  intro 
duced  to  Mr.  Barnes  a  curious,  wistful,  eager  flash 
is  emitted  from  his  dark  eyes;  though  his  voice  is 
very  suave,  as  he  remarks :  "  I've  often  heard  my 
poor,  dead  brother  speak  of  you,  monsieur." 

Upon   the   ceremony   Marina   had   looked   with    a 


170  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

very  pale  face,  but  now  two  hectic  spots  flame  in 
either  cheek  as  she  returns  the  salute  of  Danella, 
who  murmurs :  "  'Tis  years  since  I  saw  you — the 
little  girl  poor  Musso  loved.  You  have  grown  into 
a  beautiful  woman — you  who  were  my  dead  brother's 
ward." 

Then,  the  American  studying  him  closely,  sees 
Cipriano's  eyes  light  up  with  the  peculiar  flame  that 
in  the  past  illuminated  his  brother's  orbs  as  he 
looked  upon  the  loveliness  of  Marina  Paoli.  This, 
perchance,  is  not  to  be  wondered  at;  Madame  An- 
struther,  in  a  two  weeks'  honeymoon,  has  added  to 
her  girlhood  graces  the  supreme  beauty  of  ecstatic 
passion,  which  etherealises  her  exquisite  features, 
though  these  have  now  a  nervous  vivacity  of  move 
ment  produced  by  the  latent  terror  for  the  safety  of 
the  husband  she  adores. 

But  soon  after,  as  the  champagne  sparkles,  the 
count  toasts  the  bride  very  gallantly,  remarking  on 
her  youthful  English  beauty.  "  Signore  Barnes 
should  be  a  happy  man,"  he  whispers  to  her,  and 
goes  on  chatting  so  unaffectedly  and  pleasantly  that 
Enid,  who  had  looked  upon  his  entrance  as  if  he  were 
Mephisto  himself,  begins  to  think  this  pleasant- 
voiced  but  vivacious-mannered  gentleman  is  not  so 
dangerous  as  she  suspected. 

Dressed  in  the  deep  mourning  of  Southern  France, 
the  high  Corsican  hat  he  still  carries  in  his  hand 


THE    COMING    OF    DANELLA  171 

lends  picturesqueness  to  Cipriano's  costume.  A 
marked  family  likeness  immediately  informs  Barnes 
that  though  nearly  ten  years  younger,  this  is  cer 
tainly  the  half  brother  of  the  passed-away  Musso 
Danella.  The  eyes  have  the  same  subtle  flame  in 
them  and  the  same  intense  passions,  only  more  vivid, 
if  possible. 

Notwithstanding  his  sombre  garb,  soon  the  gentle 
man  is  laughing  with  Lady  Chartris ;  Maud  driving 
her  mother  distracted  by  crying:  "  I'm  only  eleven, 
but  I'm  as  tall  as  the  bride,  ain't  I,  mamma,  dear?  " 
and  standing  up  back  to  back  with  Enid,  making  a 
great  juvenile  display  of  baby  waist  and  pink  silken 
stockings. 

"  It's  her  high-heeled  slippers,"  cries  her  mother, 
angrily.  "  The  deceitful  child  is  standing  on 
tip-toe!" 

"  Ma  foi,  la  petite  is  anxious  to  be  married  her 
self,"  smiles  Cipriano. 

"  Ain't  I  ?  "  cries  Maud,  merrily.  "  Ask  mamma 
for  me,  Count." 

"  Oh,  mercy,  the  champagne  has  gone  to  the 
minx's  head,"  gasps  Lady  Chartris,  savagely.  But 
Corregio  has  again  devoted  his  attention  to  Marina. 
As  well  he  may;  her  dark,  liquid  eyes  carrying  in 
their  depths  the  passion  of  the  South,  yet  always 
seeming  to  ask  this  man  a  pathetic  question — one 
his  orbs  refuse  to  answer,  though  several  times  there 


172  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

is  so  amorous  a  gleam  in  them  that  the  young 
English  husband  would  like  to  take  their  owner  by 
the  throat. 

"  Dash  it,"  thinks  Burton,  "  if  the  fervid  passion 
of  his  dead  brother  for  Marina  is  bequeathed  to 
Cipriano  that  would  add  a  weirdness  to  this  affair  to 
beat  the  band." 

At  first  opportunity,  while  the  ladies  are  gathered 
about  Enid  talking  to  her  of  her  yachting  cruise, 
Barnes  says  to  Danella :  "  A  few  words  in  private 
with  you,  please,  Count." 

"  Certainly,  I  was  about  to  request  that  myself," 
remarks  Cipriano. 

"  Perhaps  the  garden  would  be  more  secluded," 
and  the  American,  ready  for  action,  keeping  his 
eye  upon  his  visitor,  politely  opens  the  door  and 
bows  him  out  into  the  grounds. 

As  he  watches  the  Corsican  in  the  dim  light  of 
the  descending  evening,  Barnes  notices  he  is  a 
flashing  eyed,  actively  built  man  of  not  more  than 
thirty-five. 

"  You  wish  the  interview  to  be  a  private  one, 
so  do  I."  His  visitor  walks  well  into  the  shade  of 
the  orange  and  citron  trees,  passing  to  where  a  rift 
in  the  foliage  permits  a  view  of  the  boat  landing, 
which  in  the  coming  night  is  now  hardly  discerni 
ble.  Here  he  pauses  carelessly,  his  brilliant  orbs 
occasionally  directed  toward  the  water.  A  moment 


THE    COMING    OF    DANELLA  173 

later  he  observes  quietly :  "  Your  wedding  made  me 
sad,  Signore." 

"  So  much  so  you  tried  to  stop  it,"  rejoins  Barnes, 
drily,  striving  to  keep  the  anger  from  his  tones. 

"  Ah,  Madame  Blackwood  has  told  you  our  con 
versation."  The  Corsican  laughs  slightly.  "  I 
confess  I  should  have  done  even  more  to  prevent 
or  postpone  your  nuptials  had  I  seen  your  bride 
before  and  known  her  extreme  youth,  beauty  and 
innocence." 

The  American  is  about  to  interrupt  him,  but 
Cipriano  continues,  a  strain  of  sadness  in  his  voice: 
"  Therefore  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  didn't  arrive 
before  your  nuptials.  You  were  the  companion  of 
my  dead  brother,  you  went  mufloon  shooting  with 
him  several  times  in  Corsica.  As  such  I  wished  in 
friendship  to  warn  you  not  to  make  any  woman 
your  bride;  at  all  events,  not  till  an  unhappy  sus 
picion  had  been  settled  forever.  Some  of  the 
natives  of  Bocognano,  who  loved  my  brother,  be 
lieve  that  his  death  was  in  some  way  attributable 

to  you,  not  personally,  perhaps "  he  notices 

Barnes's  gesture  of  dissent,  "  but  it  would  please 
me  if  you  would  give  me  the  particulars  as  you 
understand  them  of  the  murder  of  my  brother." 

"  Certainly,  all  the  particulars,"  replies  Burton, 
anxious  to  make  this  man  understand  the  true  facts 
of  his  brother's  death,  and  thinking  perhaps  he  can 


174  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

convince  Corregio  that  Musso  Danella's  assassina 
tion  came  from  his  own  vindictive  love  of  revenge. 
Therefore,  concisely  yet  rapidly  and  logically,  Mr. 
Barnes  relates  the  details  of  Musso  Danella's  being 
stabbed  by  the  old  Corsican  Tomasso  Monaldi  in 
mistake  for  Edwin  Anstruther  in  Marina's  bridal 
chamber  nearly  two  weeks  before. 

"  Yes,  but  our  people  believe  that  you,  Ameri 
cano "  if  there  is  a  vindictive  ring  in  Cipriano's 

voice  it  is  repressed — "  in  some  way  aided  it." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Your  brother  was  dead 
almost  as  I  dismounted  from  my  horse  at  the  house," 
sharply  returns  the  American. 

"  Yes,  but  the  natives  of  Bocagnano  declare  it 
was  by  your  arts — by  your  telegram — Madre  di 
Dio,"  wails  the  Corsican,  "  that  I  and  they  have  been 
bereft. 

"  They  say,"  cries  the  Corsican,  trying  to  stifle 
an  almost  uncontrollable  grief,  "  that  poor  Musso 
was  done  to  death  by  the  arts  of  foreigners,  who 
came  to  the  island  for  a  nuptial  fete  but  bringing 
blood  with  them.  They  say  this  naval  officer  in 
that  house  there  pretends  he  didn't  slay  Antonio, 
the  brother  of  Marina,  because  he  fears  Marina's 
vow  of  the  vendetta,  and  that  she,  my  brother's 
ward,  gave  poor  Musso  to  his  assassin  to  save  her 
husband  from  a  vengeance  all  Corsicans  think 
righteous.  I  am  only  repeating  to  you  that  this 


THE    COMING    OF    DANELLA  175 

is  what  the  people  of  Bocognano  think,"  he  says, 
controlling  himself.  "  I  am  too  modern  to  believe 
in  these  old-time  feuds  of  the  vendetta,  but  I  am 
sorry  you  married  that  young  English  girl,  whose 
fate  will  perhaps  be  now  that  of  your  own.  For 
Bocognano  believes  you  entered  it  with  bridal 
flowers  and  left  death  behind  you — you  and  this 
naval  officer.  They  have  sworn  the  vendetta 
against  you,  Monsieur  Barnes,  also  against  Marina 
Paoli,  who  has  forgotten,  in  this  naval  lieutenant's 
arms,  to  avenge  her  brother.  As  the  woman  my 
poor  dead  brother  brought  up  from  childhood,  I 
feel  Marina  should  have  at  least  my  protection. 
Therefore  I  tell  you  what  my  friends  in  Corsica 
say,  that  you  and  she  may  have  warning." 

"  And  you  can  tell  your  friends  in  Corsica," 
answers  the  American,  "  that  if  they  bother  me,  or 
my  bride  or  any  of  us,  I  shall  plant  them  with  no 
more  compunction  than  a  Western  gun  man  would." 

"  Diable,  I  have  heard  of  your  wonderful  pre 
cision  with  the  pistol  from  my  dead  brother  many 
times,"  remarks  Cipriano,  with  almost  a  shudder. 
"  I  am  told  it  was  your  devilish  knowledge  of  that 
weapon  that  taught  the  Englishman  how  to  shoot 
to  kill  Antonio,  in  that  duel  a  year  ago  on  the  beach 
at  Ajaccio — which  began  this  unending  line  of 
blood."  Then  his  eyes  catching  a  gleam  of  a  light 
from  the  distant  landing  stage,  he  pauses  with  a 


176  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

little  start  of  triumph  and  adds :  "  But  I  have  said 
all  possible  to  warn  you,  Signore  Americano.  The 
rest  is  not  my  affair,  though  I  would  like  to  voice 
a  few  words  to  Madame  Paoli,  who  was  my  brother's 
ward." 

"  I  do  not  think  her  husband  will  let  you,"  an 
swers  Burton.  "  At  all  events,  he  won't  let  you 
wrack  her  nerves  by  mentioning  the  awful  tragedy." 

So  the  two  together  return  to  the  house.  In  the 
darkness  Barnes  has  his  weapon  always  ready,  some 
flashes  t)f  a  Corsican  fury,  that  have  broken  through 
Cipriano's  grief,  making  the  American  very  sus 
picious  of  him;  though  Burton,  disgruntled,  cogi 
tates  :  "  Hang  it,  I  can't  plant  this  suave  fellow  on 
mere  suspicion." 

Then  reenter  the  supper  room  where  Lady  Char- 
tris  takes  possession  of  Cipriano,  notwithstanding 
his  eyes  follow  every  movement  of  the  beautiful 
Marina. 

A  moment  later  Barnes  asks  Lady  Chartris 
ardently  where  his  bride  is. 

"  Oh,  she's  gone  up  to  her  chamber  to  primp 
for  going  away,"  cries  Maud,  "  and  you  haven't 
given  me  any  bridesmaid's  present,  either."  This 
last  is  emphasised  by  a  very  sullen  pout. 

"  Oh,  that  will  arrive  after  I  return  from  my 
honeymoon  cruise,"  returns  the  American,  lightly, 
and  runs  up  the  stairs  to  the  chamber  lately  occu- 


THE    COMING    OF    DANELLA  177 

pied  by  Miss  Anstruther,  but  finding  only  Tompson 
in  it,  he  asks:  "Where's  your  mistress?" 

"  Oh,  Miss  Enid — I  beg  your  pardon  humbly — • 
Mrs.  Barnes  has  gone  on  board  the  yacht,  sir.  You 
sent  for  her." 

"  /  sent  for  her!     What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  a  man  coming  up  from  the  landing 
told  me  to  tell  my  mistress  you  were  waiting  on 
board  for  her." 

"  That's  very  curious.  Graham  and  his  crew  are 
not  even  on  board  the  yacht." 

Barnes  dashes  downstair,  calls  the  mate  to  him 
and  asks :  "  Has  any  boat  come  off  from  the 
yacht?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Very  well ;  run  down  to  the  landing  stage  with 
me." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"  Why,  there's  something  wrong,  I  think,"  whis 
pers  Barnes,  not  breaking  his  rapid  pace.  "  Tomp 
son  has  said  that  I  sent  for  Enid  to  come  to  me  on 
board  the  yacht." 

They  are  already  at  the  landing  stage,  but  in  the 
darkness  they  cannot  see  even  the  hundred  yards 
to  the  vessel. 

"  Her  lights  are  not  there ! "  cries  the  mate ;  they 
spring  into  a  boat  and  row  to  where  the  yacht  was 
moored,  but  find  she  has  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 


178  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  By  Heaven,  somebody's  gone  away  with  the 
yacht !  "  gasps  Graham. 

"  And  with  it  on  board  my  bride !  "  moans  Barnes, 
the  muscles  of  his  face  knotted  like  whipcord.  Al 
most  the  next  second  he  said  more  calmly :  "  Still  it 
may  be  possible  she's  in  the  house  or  grounds." 

They  row  hastily  back  to  the  landing  stage.  At 
the  shore  Barnes  says  abruptly :  "  They  have  gone 
away  by  water ;  we  must  follow  by  water.  Graham, 
get  across  the  harbour  and  charter  some  smart  craft 
that  can  chase  the  yacht." 

The  mate,  whose  face  is  sorrowful,  for  all  on 
board  the  Seagull  loved  the  high-spirited  young 
English  girl,  says  quietly :  "  I  understand,"  and 
lights  a  boat's  lantern,  as  the  night  is  very  dark. 

As  the  match  gives  out  its  glow,  Barnes  utters  a 
short,  sharp  exclamation  and  seizes  a  small  piece  of 
paper  tacked  on  the  wooden  balustrade  of  the  land 
ing  place. 

"  Your  light !  "  he  commands ;  then  mutters :  "  By 
the  Lord,  their  message ! "  for  he  reads  by  the  flick 
ering  flame  in  foreign  script: 

"  AMERICANO, 

"  IF  YOU  WOULD  RESCUE  YOUR  BRIDE,  COME  TO 

CORSICA!" 


CHAPTER    X 

THE  MISSING  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  LETTER 

DESPITE  his  strong  nerves,  this  absolute  confirma 
tion  of  his  worst  fears  as  to  the  woman  he  adores 
for  a  moment  benumbs  and  dazes  Barnes;  but  after 
one  gasping  spasm  of  misery,  he  directs  hoarsely: 
"  Quick,  some  vessel  to  pursue  these  fiends ! " 

As  Graham  departs  on  his  errand,  the  bereft  bride 
groom,  whose  face  has  grown  devilish,  mutters :  "  By 
Heaven,  there's  a  gentleman  in  that  house  up  there  I 
must  see  first !  "  and  darts  up  the  path  to  Lady  Char- 
tris's  villa,  reflecting :  "  Her  fate  I  must  not  think 
of!  That  would  unman  me.  My  mind  must  be 
clear  to  save  my  darling." 

As  he  reaches  the  door  of  the  supper  room,  Lady 
Chartris's  voice  is  saying  in  languid  sentimentality: 
"  Dear  Count  Cipriano,  abate  your  interest  in  your 
late  brother's  ward  and  have  another  glass  of  wine 
to  again  toast  the  bride." 

At  this,  Maud  laughs :  "  Hurrah  for  Mrs. 
Barnes  of  New  York !  Drink  her  down !  "  And  the 
clink  of  champagne  glasses  seems  to  the  bereft  like 
a  funeral  knell  to  his  wedding. 

But  the  bridegroom's  awful  face  as  he  enters  stops 
revelry.  Maud  gasps :  "  Holy  poker !  "  and  stands 

179 


180  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

affrighted,  her  finger  poked  in  her  mouth.  Marina 
with  a  little  shriek  rises  from  a  sofa  on  which  she 
has  been  seated  beside  Cipriano  Danella,  and  Edwin, 
springing  up,  ejaculates:  "By  hurricanes,  what's 
happened?  " 

In  all  his  fears  and  all  his  agony,  into  the  venge 
ful  husband's  mind  as  he  looks  upon  the  party,  one 
mighty  consideration  springs,  that  saves  Danella's 
life :  "  By  Heaven,  this  man's  remaining  here  indi 
cates  his  innocence.  If  Cipriano  had  aught  to  do 
with  the  abduction  of  my  wife,  he'd  scarcely  dare  to 
stand  unconcerned  here  before  me."  For  the  Count's 
gaze  is  carelessly  not  turned  to  him,  but  lingers  ad 
miringly  upon  Marina,  who,  adorned  by  the  white, 
clinging  gown  she  has  donned  for  Enid's  nuptial 
fete,  is  dazzling  in  girlish  grace  as  well  as  superb 
in  woman's  beauty. 

The  easy  bearing  of  Danella  continues  as  Barnes 
briefly  tells  his  tale,  though  once  or  twice  he  raises 
his  thin  Italian  eyebrows  and  rolls  his  dark  orbs  in 
sympathy. 

"  God's  mercy,  my  sister !  "  shudders  Edwin ;  but 
Marina,  after  one  quick,  sharp  sigh,  closes  her  lips 
sharply  and  listens  eagerly. 

"  Dio  mio,  it  is  as  I  feared ! "  exclaims  the  Count 
sorrowfully.  "  They  have  seized  your  lovely  bride." 

"  Oh  murder,  if  they're  drowning  poor  Enid 
now !  "  cries  Maud,  with  a  childish  morbidness. 


THE    FRAGMENT    OF    THE    LETTER     181 

This  uncanny  suggestion  drives  Barnes  frantic. 

"  If  they  have  harmed  her "  The  contorted 

features  and  the  steely  eyes  of  the  American  indicate 
his  vengeance. 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  imagine  any  injury  will  come  imme 
diately  to  the  young  lady.  Lately,  in  the  vendetta, 
women  who  do  not  bring  about  the  tragedy  are 
spared,"  remarks  Cipriano  quite  sympathetically, 
though  his  glance  rests  malevolently  upon  Marina 
till  her  passionate  beauty  seems  to  soften  his  auster 
ity.  "  But  in  Bocognano  I  imagine  they  wish  a  visit 
from  you,  Mr.  Barnes,  to  rescue  your  bride,"  he 
continues  drily.  "  You  see,  in  Corsica,  a  native  jury 
would  look  much  more  leniently  than  a  Continental 
one  upon  the  death  of  the  vendetta.  That's  only  my 
surmise,  but  I  am  quite  confident  it's  the  correct 
one." 

The  American's  face,  which  despite  Anglo-Saxon 
self-control  is  that  of  a  demon,  becomes  calmer;  he 
says  almost  affably :  "  Thank  you,  Count.  You 
have  told  me  just  what  I  wanted  to  know — the  loca 
tion  of  my  loved  one ! "  Then  his  voice  becomes 
strident ;  he  remarks  grimly :  "  Your  friends  want 
a  visit  from  me  in  Corsica — they  shall  have  one ! " 
To  this  he  adds  eagerly :  "  Danella,  come  over  with 
me  to  the  island." 

"  Santo  Gennaro,  will  not  I !  "  cries  Cipriano  ec 
statically. 


182  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  venture !  Think  of 
me !  "  shrieks  Lady  Chartris,  feebly  but  frantically. 

"  Gee,  ma  is  fainting  for  you,"  giggles  Maud 
frightenedly,  as  Cipriano  alertly  catches  Lady  Char 
tris  in  his  arms. 

A  kind  of  sardonic  grin  is  on  the  Count's  face  as 
he  gazes  at  the  half  swooning  Prunella,  but  his 
glance  reaching  the  svelte  loveliness  of  Marina  as 
she  is  clinging  to  her  husband's  arm,  he  remarks 
philosophically :  "  Mon  cher  Monsieur  Barnes, 
though  I  would  willingly  aid  you,  it  would  not  be 
wise  to  go  with  you  to  Corsica.  Should  ill  befall 
you  in  that  island,  you  might  blame  me,  of  whom 
you  have  already  had,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  suspicion. 
As  I  said  before,  my  poor  brother  is  dead,  I  meddle 
in  this  affair  no  more.  I  remain  to  soothe  the  Lady 
Chartris  in  Nice." 

"Thank  God!"  ejaculates  Prunella,  sentimentally 
seizing  Danella's  hand. 

"  Yes,  I  will  stay,"  remarks  the  Count,  heroically. 

Suddenly  Marina  startles  them  all.  She  says 
dominantly :  "  No  one  should  go  to  Corsica  but  me. 
In  the  home  of  my  fathers  and  my  kindred — they 
will  believe  me  when  I  tell  them  there  is  no  cause  for 
a  vendetta  against  my  friends.  I  can  save  your 
bride,  dear  Burton,  and  bring  her  back  to  you.  My 
words  will  have  weight  with  all  in  Bocognano." 

'*  Maledictione,  it  would  be  most  unwise !  "  dissents 


THE    FRAGMENT    OF    THE    LETTER     183 

Danella  shudderingly.  "  Have  they  not  declared  the 
vendetta  even  against  you,  Marina?  Does  not  Ber 
nardo  Saliceti  swear  that  you,  by  your  arts,  pro 
duced  the  death  of  the  father  of  the  girl,  Etheria, 
he  is  about  to  marry,  old  Tomasso  Monaldi's 
daughter?  " 

"  Monstrous !  "  cries  the  girl  mournfully.  "  Who 
dares  to  accuse  me  of  the  death  of  poor  faithful 
Tomasso,  my  foster  father  who  worshipped  me — 
and  whom  I  adored?  "  Tears  make  her  dark  eyes 
tender ;  but  she  continues  enthusiastically :  "  Pah, 
they  love  me — they  will  not  believe !  My  people  even 
worship  the  name  of  the  Paolis.  I  have  no  fear  of 
my  own  kindred,  my  own  blood!  Accuse  me  of  the 
killing  of  the  dear  old  man  who  led  my  childhood 
steps  along  the  crags  of  Del  Oro  and  the  chestnut 
groves  of  Bocagnano!  I'll  meet  Saliceti  and  prove 
to  the  whole  commune  that  he  lies."  Her  eyes  are 
now  those  of  a  Corsican. 

"  And  by  Heaven,  I'll  go  with  you  to  save  my 
sister !  "  cries  Edwin. 

"  Ah,  that  is  right — go  to  save  your  sister," 
answers  Danella  excitedly.  "  But  Madame  An- 
struther  should  remain  here  with  Lady  Chartris. 
Only  men  should  go.  'Tis  a  man's  duty,  Lieutenant." 

"  Pish,  while  we  talk  I  should  be  acting !  No  one 
but  me  must  go !  "  remarks  Barnes  shortly.  "  They 
hate  you,  Anstruther,  for  being  English,  as  they  do 


184.  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

your  wife.  They  won't  believe  that  another  English 
officer  and  not  you  killed  Antonio  in  that  duel.  Be 
sides,  it  is  my  mission  to  save  my  bride,  as  it  is  your 
mission  to  protect  and  care  for  the  dear  wife  in  your 
arms.  Don't  fear,  I  will  bring  Enid  back  or — or 
you  won't  see  me  again !  "  This  last  is  muttered  to 
himself. 

The  splash  of  oars  interrupts  him.  Barnes  strides 
out  of  the  room  and  goes  hurriedly  down  to  the  land 
ing  place.  "  Quick,  Graham,"  he  calls,  "  is  that 
you?  " 

"  Yes,"  answers  the  mate,  who  is  stepping  from 
the  boat ;  and  he  reports  he  has  engaged  a  lateen- 
rigged  fishing  vessel,  which,  as  soon  as  they  have  got 
some  provisions  and  water  on  board,  will  be  over 
with  its  Italian  crew,  probably  in  half  an  hour. 

"  Then  leave  every  foreigner  behind  you,"  directs 
Barnes.  "  Pay  them  to  stay  on  shore.  You  sail  the 
craft  with  a  few  of  your  Scotch  tars.  The  rest  of 
your  men  we  will  leave  here  to  assist  Edwin  in  pa 
trolling  these  grounds  and  taking  care  of  his  wife, 
whom  you  know  is  threatened  also." 

"  Yes,  by  the  cursed  Corsican  gang  that  is  pur 
suing  you,"  says  the  mate,  adding  a  muttered  oath. 
"  I'll  stand  by  you,  sir,  wi'  my  life.  So  will  ilk  braw 
laddie  of  mine !  " 

"  Very  well,  I'll  make  my  preparations  and  j  oin 
you  here,"  answers  Barnes.  "  They  won't  take  long ; 


THE  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  LETTER  185 

my  baggage  will  be  little  more  than  firearms  and 
ammunition,"  he  adds  significantly.  Suddenly  turn 
ing  to  the  mate,  he  pulls  out  a  pocketbook  filled  with 
billets  de  banque,  and  handing  some  of  them  to  the 
young  Scotchman,  says :  "  Try  and  purchase  here 
some  rifles  with  cartridges  for  you  and  your  crew." 

As  he  returns  up  the  walk,  among  the  ilex  and 
orange  trees,  to  Lady  Chartris's  villa,  Mr.  Barnes 
puts  his  pocketbook  away,  muttering :  "  Lucky  I 
got  these  bankbills  for  my  honeymoon  cruise."  Then 
he  moans,  half  dazed:  "Lucky — my  honeymoon 
cruise?"  though  he  will  not  think  of  his  lost  bride. 
Every  mental  energy  must  be  devoted  to  rescuing 
her. 

Entering  the  house,  to  go  up  to  the  chamber  he 
had  occupied,  he  passes  the  supper  room,  and  noting 
Danella,  though  he  is  bending  over  Lady  Chartris 
with  almost  the  effusiveness  of  a  lover,  has  his  eyes 
always  upon  the  attractive  Marina,  who  is  in  con 
sultation  with  her  husband,  Barnes  enters. 

To  him,  Edwin,  springing  up,  says:  "You've 
procured  the  craft  to  follow  them  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Graham  did  that  for  me,"  and  Barnes 
hurriedly  tells  the  young  English  officer  the  arrange 
ments  he  has  made,  adding:  "You  stay  here,  old 
man,  and  trust  me  to  bring  your  sister  back." 

Again  Marina,  her  face  full  of  generous  enthusi 
asm,  cries :  "  Let  me  go  to  Corsica.  You  are  a 


186  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

foreigner,  dear  Mr.  Barnes.  In  my  own  island  I  can 
do  what  you  could  not  do — they  all  love  me !  " 

"  What !  When  they've  been  hunting  you  like  a 
wild  beast  and  sending  you  letters  that  make  you 
faint !  "  shudders  her  husband. 

"  You're  quite  right,  Lieutenant  Anstruther,"  re 
turns  Danella,  "  in  not  permitting  your  wife  to  go. 
One  unfortunate,  helpless  woman  in  that  wild  land 
amid  the  passions  of  their  barbaric  feud  is  pitiable 
to  think  of.  To  subject  another,  whose  life  is  already 
threatened  by  the  dagger  of  the  vendetta,  to  a  simi 
lar  risk,  would  be  hideous." 

"  I  do  not  fear  my  kindred,"  answers  Marina 
proudly.  "  My  words,  the  rustics  of  my  commune 
will  believe.  I  should  go." 

"  And  have  them  murder  you?  "  shudders  her  hus 
band.  "  Never !  " 

"You  forbid  me  to  prove  my  innocence?"  In 
her  tone  is  the  first  rebellion  Marina  has  ever  shown 
her  spouse. 

"  I  do,"  answers  the  young  officer  in  quarterdeck 
tones. 

His  young  wife's  only  response  is  a  plaintive  sigh. 

"  Again  you  are  right,  Monsieur  Anstruther.  Of 
course,  we  know  they  loved  Marina ;  still  they  might 
not  believe,"  observes  the  Count,  his  ardent  eyes  rest 
ing  upon  the  excited  girl,  whose  very  enthusiasm 
renders  her  more  lovely.  "  I  am  now  returning  to 


THE    FRAGMENT    OF    THE    LETTER    187 

Nice,  where  Lady  Chartris  knows  that  I  am  at  her 
command  to  do  anything  to  aid  her  in  this  unfor 
tunate  matter.  I  shall  drive  out  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  come  soon,"  implores  Prunella  eagerly. 

Here  Maud,  who  had  been  gazing  big-eyed  on  all 
this,  suddenly  bursts  out:  "Isn't  it  awful?  Just 
think,  Enid  stood  right  there  marrying  you,  Barnes, 
not  an  hour  ago,  and  now  what — WHAT  are  they 
doing  to  her?  " 

Her  juvenile  tactlessness  produces  a  muttered  oath 
from  the  sailor  and  a  shuddering  cry  from  her 
mother :  "  Stop  your  chatter,  you  minx !  " 

Barnes,  his  face  that  of  a  crazy  man,  leads  Maud 
to  the  door  and  says  in  tones  that  chill  her  juvenile 
blood:  "Good-night!" 

"  Oh,  what  have  I  done  that  everyone's  down  on 
me !  "  is  the  wail  of  the  expelled  one  as  she  disappears 
in  the  distance. 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  not  being  a  member  of 
this  afflicted  family,  I  take  my  leave,"  remarks  Cip- 
riano,  controlling  a  hideous  grin.  "  May  you  have 
good  fortune,  Signore  Barnes,  in  your  efforts.  But 
remember  one  thing:  In  that  barbaric  island,  they 
want  your  blood.  You  can  only  rescue  your  wife  by 
risking  it,  but  no  suggestion  from  me  is  necessary 
to  a  brave  and  determined  man ! " 

Danella  would  bow  himself  out,  but  Marina  says 
eagerly :  "  Two  words  in  private  with  you  ?  " 


188  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Certainly,"  answers  the  Count,  and  Barnes  notes 
as  the  beautiful  woman  whispers  to  him  a  look  of 
astonishment  enters  his  mobile  face. 

After  he  has  answered  her,  the  girl  says  curtly : 
"  I  thank  you,  Signore." 

"  You  may  trust  me,  Madam,"  is  the  Count's 
reply;  and  courteously  kisses  the  trembling  fingers 
of  Anstruther's  beautiful  wife,  his  eyes  seemingly 
filled  with  a  new  and  strange  passion. 

This  is  scarce  noted  by  the  American,  whose  misery 
distracts  him. 

A  few  moments  later,  Burton  selects  for  himself 
a  rough  shooting  costume  that  he  has  fortunately 
with  him. 

Then  he  hurriedly  slings  a  field  glass  over  his 
shoulder;  puts  one  or  two  little  trinkets,  mementoes 
of  his  lost  love,  in  his  pocket;  takes  his  valise  with 
the  articles  it  happens  to  contain,  jamming  all  open 
spaces  full  of  cartridges  for  his  revolvers,  and  brings 
it  downstairs  with  him. 

Lady  Chartris  is  in  semi-hysterics  with  Maud. 
Marina  stands  in  the  hallway  with  her  husband.  To 
Barnes,  as  he  wrings  her  hand,  she  whispers :  "  Re 
member,  a  dead  man  cannot  take  Enid  from  that 
barbarous  home  of  mine.  Therefore,  guard  your 
own  life." 

They  step  out  on  the  porch.  Some  moving  lights 
are  at  the  landing  place  and  they  hear  the  swash  of 


THE  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  LETTER  189 

sweeps  and  the  cries  of  the  Italian  crew  as  they 
warp  their  fishing  vessel  up  to  the  platform. 

"  Here,  I'll  go  down  with  you  and  see  you  on 
board  and  your  craft  shipshape,"  remarks  An- 
struther.  "  Let  me  carry  that  rifle  of  yours." 

"  Come ! "  says  Barnes,  to  whom  every  minute 
seems  an  hour,  and  hurries  down  the  path;  but  as 
Edwin  follows,  Marina's  white  arms  twine  round  him 
close,  tight  and  clinging  as  if  they  couldn't  let 
him  go. 

"  Don't  fear  for  me,  you  trembling  dear,"  whis 
pers  her  husband,  kissing  the  excited  face.  "  I'll  be 
back  soon." 

"  Soon  ?  "  With  a  sobbing  sigh  her  fevered  lips 
seek  his  again.  Then  with  a  sudden  frantic  effort, 
she  releases  him  and  whispers  hoarsely :  "  Go !  " 

At  the  landing,  Barnes  finds  he  has  quite  a  little 
to  do  paying  the  Italian  fishermen  to  remain  on 
shore  as  Graham  is  getting  their  stores  and  water 
properly  arranged  on  the  craft.  Of  this  Anstruther 
now  takes  charge,  but  though  he  works  with  a  will, 
it  is  almost  half  an  hour  before  the  young  naval 
officer  pronounces  the  fishing  vessel  shipshape  in  case 
of  heavy  weather.  In  this  Barnes  frantically  as 
sists  him. 

Then  the  young  English  officer  leads  the  American 
aside  and  says,  with  the  craft  of  a  seaman :  "  Under 
this  present  breeze,  if  those  devils  you're  in  pursuit 


190  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

of  want  to  make  their  island  quickly,  they'll  be  com 
pelled  to  strike  its  northwest  coast  somewhere  near 
Porto.  Graham  will  know  how  to  steer  the  course. 
I'd  go  with  you,  but- " 

"  But  your  first  duty  is  here  to  protect  your 
wife." 

"  You  think  these  devils  haven't  all  gone  away ; 
that  there  is  still  danger  for  her?  " 

"  Yes,  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  your  loved  one.  That 
was  my  error,"  moans  Burton.  "  I  left  Enid  out  of 
my  sight  for  only  a  few  minutes." 

"  Then  good-by,"  says  the  sailor  hurriedly,  and 
wringing  Barnes's  hand,  strides  up  the  path  to  Lady 
Chartris's  villa. 

Then  Burton  stepping  on  board  the  fishing  lug 
ger,  which  is  big  enough  to  make  the  run  to  Corsica, 
they  would  immediately  throw  off  their  moorings  to 
the  little  landing  stage,  but  the  Italian  padrone  of 
the  craft,  noting  Barnes's  haste  seems  great  and  his 
need  extreme,  steps  up  and  demands  additional  rec 
ompense  from  the  American  milord  for  his  vessel, 
declaring  he  will  not  let  her  go  until  he  has  more 
money ;  that  his  ship  may  be  wrecked  at  sea  and  he 
has  no  insurance. 

"  Pay  him ! "  mutters  Barnes  impatiently,  and 
hands  his  pocketbook  to  Graham. 

But  payment  takes  some  time,  the  light  of  the 
lantern  not  being  very  good  and  the  Italian  inspect- 


THE  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  LETTER  1Q1 

ing  every  bill  to  see  its  value  and  again  greedily 
imploring  for  more  money,  stating  that  his  men  will 
desert  him  if  he  gives  them  not  speedy  employ 
ment. 

"  Give  him  what  he  asks,"  cries  Burton  again ; 
then  pauses  and  mutters :  "  Good  God !  "  and  springs 
on  shore!  For  a  shout  has  rung  out  through  the 
night  air  from  Lady  Chartris's  villa  and  there  is 
terror  in  it,  and  he  knows  it  is  the  voice  of  the 
stout-nerved  Anstruther,  who  would  not  give  cry 
unless  some  sudden  and  uncanny  despair  had  come 
upon  him. 

The  American  rushes  up  the  path  and  a  few  steps 
from  the  door  almost  runs  against  Edwin.  In  the 
darkness  the  frenzied  men  seize  each  other,  for  An 
struther  is  now  as  frantic  as  himself.  Recognising 
him,  Barnes  asks:  "What's  the  matter?" 

"  By  Heaven !  Another  blow  in  the  dark !  My 
wife  has  gone  also  !  " 

"Marina?  Impossible!  You  have  looked  the 
grounds  over?  You  have  searched  the  house?  " 

"  Here's  a  note  from  her,  left  in  her  chamber, 
begging  me  to  forgive  her,  saying  it  is  to  save  my 
life." 

"  My  God,  what  horrible  plot  is  it  that  has  bereft 
us  both  in  a  moment?  "  asks  Barnes.  "  If  she  had 
only  told  you  the  contents  of  that  devilish  letter." 

The  two  are  in  the  hall  together,  in  their  anguish, 


192  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

their  voices  ring  out  loudly.  A  frightened-eyed, 
short-skirted  creature  runs  to  them,  and  tremblingly 
asks :  "  Did  you  want  Marina's  knock-out  letter 
very  much,  Barnsey?  The  last  part  of  it." 

"  It  was  perhaps  Enid's  life,  perhaps  the  life  of 
Edwin's  bride." 

"  Well,  then,  I — I — oh,  Great  Jones,  forgive  me ! 
I  lied  to  you.  I've  got  the  letter — the  last  part  of 
it;  I  was  going  to  sell  it  to  you  for  marrons  glaces 
— I'll  get  it  for  you.  It  is  tucked  away  in  my  lucky 
stocking  for  fear  ma'll  see  it.  It  said  something 
about  murder!  I'll — oh,  don't  look  at  me  so 
awful!" 

Maud  flies  upstairs  and  a  moment  later  dashes 
back  bringing  the  portion  of  the  epistle. 

Barnes  seizes  it.     Both  men  attempt  to  read  it. 

As  they  try  to  decipher  its  cramped  foreign  hand, 
Lady  Chartris,  coming  out  wildly  from  her  chamber, 
for  now  she  fears  she  will  be  abducted  herself,  and 
is  half  crazy  with  fright,  suddenly,  looking  over 
their  shoulders,  cries,  half  shrieking:  "  Oh,  Heavens, 
Cipriano's  writing ! " 

"You  are  sure?" 

"  I  fear,  I  fear !  I've  got  three  love  notes  from 
him — this  looks  quite  like  his  hand." 

And  the  astounded  and  dismayed  widow  wrings 
her  hands,  her  face  pallid  with  jealous  chagrin. 

Suddenly  she  cries :     "  Away,  Maud !     These  men 


THE  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  LETTER  198 

are  talking  of  things  children  should  not  hear,"  and 
drags  her  offspring  with  her  to  the  seclusion  of  her 
chamber. 

For  the  bereft  husbands'  words  are  these: 

"  This  is  the  most  crafty,  subtle  and  Satanic  plot 
against  your  married  happiness,  Edwin,"  whispers 
Barnes.  "  As  near  as  I  can  make  out,  this  devilish 
missive  says  that  Marina  must  desert  you,  her  ac 
cursed  English  husband;  then  they  will  spare  your 
life.  If  she  remains  with  you,  your  fate  will  be  hers. 
Your  safety  from  death  is  offered  as  a  bribe  to  your 
young  wife  if  she  deserts  your  bed  and  leaves  herself 
open  to  the  stilletos  of  these  devils.  If  she  stays 
with  you  and  clings  to  you,  you  will  be  assassinated, 
even  in  her  arms." 

"  Then  the  wife  of  my  heart  has  left  me  fearing 
as  the  attack  upon  my  sister's  liberty  has  been  suc 
cessful  their  efforts  against  my  life  will  be  equally 
so,"  shudders  Edwin;  next  cries  out  almost  angrily: 
"  She  was  mad  not  to  trust  me." 

"  Marina  knew  you  wouldn't  let  her  go  if  she  did," 
suggests  Burton  more  calmly. 

But  the  other  breaks  in :  "  She  is  helpless  in  that 
devil's  hands,  who's  tricked  us  both.  This  man 
means  to  kill  her ! " 

"  Not  as  you  fear,"  mutters  Barnes.  "  Cipriano 
doubtless  came  here,  in  his  mind  some  infamous  plot 
against  your  life  and  hers,  but  now  I  think  the  same 


194  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

crazy  passion  for  Marina  that  was  in  his  brother 
has  entered  him.  Never  did  your  wife  look  more 
lovely  than  when  she  so  nobly  offered  to  go  to  Cor 
sica  to  try  and  bring  your  sister  back." 

"  Bring  my  sister  back?  That's  why  she's  gone," 
asserts  Anstruther.  "  Do  you  suppose  any  other 
consideration  would  have  induced  her  to  leave  me? 
She  thinks  her  word  is  potent  among  the  friends  of 
her  childhood  in  Bocognano.  She — she's  gone  to 
Corsica  on  that  generous  errand.  That's  what  she 
always  did — sacrificed  herself.  In  the  Egyptian  hos 
pitals  she  was  the  angel  of  mercy."  Then  his  voice 
is  strident  with  determination.  "  Marina  is  going 
to  Corsica,  Barnes,  and  I  go  with  you.  The  vessel 
is  there — come !  "  Anstruther's  rapid  strides  are 
carrying  him  to  the  door  of  the  hallway,  but  the 
American's  voice  stays  him. 

"  She  will  never  get  to  Corsica,"  says  Barnes, 
sadly. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Why  not?  Danella  longs  for  her.  Couldn't 
you  see  his  uncanny  passion  gradually  growing  as 
he  looked  upon  her  loveliness?  No,  she  will  not  be 
permitted  to  get  very  far  away  from  him.  Don't 
you  suppose  his  emissaries  are  alert  now — the  man 
with  the  scar  over  his  eye  that  delivered  this  dastard 
note  to  her  ? "  Then  the  tone  of  the  American 
changes :  he  says  very  solemnly :  "  And  yet,  I  think 


THE  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  LETTER  195 

you  can  thank  God  that  the  passion  of  the  lover 
has  entered  this  devil's  heart  and  taken  the  passion 
of  the  assassin  from  it ;  for  otherwise,  with  his  thugs 
about  her,  your  wife  would  now  be  dead." 

The  naval  officer  claps  his  hands  to  his  brow  in 
horror. 

"  You  stay  here  and  try  and  find  Marina.  As  for 
me,  my  duty  is  to  go  to  that  island  and  if  she  is 
living,  to  bring  back  my  bride — if  she  is  dead, 
avenge  her !  "  continues  Burton. 

"  That  is  my  duty  here,  rescue  or  avenge  Ma 
rina  ! "  cries  the  Englishman. 

Barnes  leaves  his  brother-in-law  arming  himself 
and  making  ready  to  go  out  of  the  villa  in  pursuit 
of  the  loved  one  he  has  lost,  and  hurries  down  the 
path  to  the  water.  The  darkness  is  now  so  great 
he  can  scarce  discern  the  little  fishing  vessel  still  tied 
up  to  the  landing  stage.  He  rapidly  springs  over 
her  low  freeboard,  and  calls :  "  Get  under  way !  " 
The  alert  Graham  is  already  at  her  helm;  her  big 
lateen  sails  are  hoisted  flapping  in  the  soft  air,  and 
a  moment  later  under  a  smart  breeze  the  little  craft 
is  gliding  toward  the  entrance  of  the  Bay  of  Ville- 
franche. 

The  twinkling  lights  of  the  naval  station  are  soon 
behind  them.  Then  as  they  pass  the  Mont  Boron 
headland,  to  these  are  added  the  illuminations  of  the 
more  distant  Nice. 


196  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  That  devil  Cipriano  is  there — can  he  have  Ed 
win's  wandering  wife  already  in  his  clutches?  " 
Barnes  thinks  moodily  as  his  eyes  rest  on  the  myriad 
lights  of  the  great  watering  place.  "  Would  that 
I  had  killed  Satanis  to-night,  but  his  supreme  tact 
and  his  tremendous  nerve  to  remain  there  calm  as 
an  iceberg,  for  the  moment  tricked  me  into  thinking 
him  innocent." 

The  illuminations  of  Nice  fade  away  in  the  dark 
ness  of  the  night  to  the  American  upon  the  deck  of 
the  fishing  vessel,  which  now,  under  a  fresh  and  in 
creasing  breeze,  is  bounding  through  the  water. 

Graham  is  still  at  the  wheel,  Barnes  pacing  the 
little  deck  of  the  silent  craft.  His  steely  eyes  peer 
into  the  gloomy  blank  ahead  of  him.  His  life  seems 
a  blank  also.  To-night  he  had  expected  the  love- 
lit  eyes  of  his  fairy  bride  to  be  beside  him  on  a 
honeymoon  cruise.  Now !  He  smites  his  hands  de 
spairingly  together.  "  If  hurt  comes  to  her  in  the 

wild  Corsican  mountains,  if  death "  his  hand 

involuntarily  reaches  his  pistol. 

He  turns  to  Graham  at  the  wheel  and  asks :  "  How 
long  before  we  reach  Corsica?  " 

"  With  this  breeze,  I  dinna  think  before  earlj 
to-morrow." 

"  You  are  carrying  all  the  sail  possible?  " 

"  Every  cloth  she  has." 

Barnes  turns  to  step  into  the  cabin. 


THE  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  LETTER  197 

"  You're  going  down  to  try  and  get  a  wee  bit  o' 
sleep,  I  ha'  hopes,"  remarks  the  Scotch  mate  sympa 
thetically. 

"  Sleep  ?  "  the  American  laughs  as  if  in  mockery 
of  the  idea,  yet  goes  below  and  tries  to  force  his 
mind  to  the  common  sense  of  this  strange  abduction, 
incidentally  carefully  preparing  his  firearms  and  in 
specting  their  cartridges. 

The  next  morning  with  the  first  rays  of  the  sun, 
Barnes  is  on  deck  again,  peering  toward  the  east, 
and  before  him  is  a  blue  haze  that  Graham,  who  is 
again  at  the  wheel,  says  is  Corsica. 

Barnes  eagerly  walks  toward  the  bow,  as  if  to 
bring  himself  a  little  nearer  to  the  being  for  whom 
his  very  soul  is  seeking. 

But  now  some  few  feet  from  the  stem  of  the  little 
vessel,  a  figure  that  has  been  crouching  under  the 
low  bulwarks,  rises,  half  shrouded  by  the  sea  fog, 
before  him.  After  two  glances  to  make  his  as 
tounded  eyes  believe,  he  gasps :  "  Marina !  " 

For  the  wife  of  Anstruther,  with  some  wraps 
thrown  over  her  fete  costume  of  the  night  before, 
stands  before  him,  the  fresh  breeze  twining  the  gar 
ments  about  her  ethereal  figure  till  she  seems  risen 
from  the  mists  of  the  morning. 

"  My  God,  why  have  you  come  here?  " 

"  To  try  and  save  your  wife,  the  sister  of  mj 
husband !  "  cries  the  Corsican  girl.  "  You  couldn't 


198  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

have  done  it.  You  know  too  little  of  this  curious 
island  and  its  customs.  To  you,  a  stranger,  every 
one  of  that  jealous,  suspicious  race  would  be  an 
enemy — to  me,  born  with  them — the  name  of  my 
family  adored — some  will  be  friends.  You  would 
surely  fail,  I  may  succeed !  " 

"  You  should  have  told  your  husband."  The 
American's  voice  is  almost  stern. 

"  I  dared  not !  Edwin  would  not  have  let  me  go. 
My  darling  values  me  too  highly  to  risk  a  hair  of 
my  head  on  such  a  venture,"  answers  the  Corsican 
bride  proudly. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  when  I  came  on  board? 
You  lay  here  unsheltered  all  night  save  by  the  bul 
warks,"  utters  Burton  sympathetically. 

"  The  night  was  warm ;  the  wind,  though  strong, 
was  balmy.  Besides,  I  waited  till  you  were  near 
enough  to  Corsica  not  to  turn  back'  from  it,  even  to 
restore  me  to  my  husband.  There  is  the  island. 
There  I  will  help  you  find  your  bride.  Enid  shall 
not  die  nor  suffer  because  she  is  the  sister  of  my 
husband  or  because  she  is  your  wife." 

One  white  arm  of  the  girl  is  extended  toward  the 
cloud  of  blue  that  is  Corsica,  the  wind  twining  her 
light  robe  about  her  graceful  form,  her  eyes  on  fire 
with  resolute  hope,  her  exquisite  face  filled  with  a 
courage  as  undaunted  as  before  the  dastard  letter 
in  the  Marseilles  railroad  depot  struck  down  her 


THE  FRAGMENT  OF  THE  LETTER  199 

spirit  and  made  her  the  nervous  invalid  of  the  yacht's 
cruise. 

"  Great  Scott,  you're  the  Marina  of  old ! "  he  ex 
claims  in  astonished  admiration. 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  she  answers  buoyantly.  "  My 
darling  husband  is  for  the  moment  safe.  Their  letter 
which  branded  me  as  traitor  to  my  race  for  marry 
ing  Edwin,  says  if  I  desert  my  husband  they  will 
spare  him.  Corsicans  keep  their  devilish  promises. 
These  assassins  will  think  I  have  abandoned  the  hus 
band  of  my  heart  and  will  spare  him  till  I  return  to 
again  nestle  in  his  arms  and  shield  him  with  my  very 
life  against  these  fiends  of  the  blood  feud." 

Marina  stands  inspired  by  a  wife's  love,  a  being 
so  beautiful  that  Barnes  thinks :  "  No  wonder  she 
lighted  the  flames  of  passion  in  the  mediaeval  heart  of 
Cipriano  Danella,  who  came  to  execute  her  on  the 
altar  of  his  uncanny  vengeance." 


BOOK    III 
CHAPTER    XI 

"  BEWARE   THE   PATH   AHEAD   OF   YOU  !  " 

THE  American  paces  the  deck  more  buoyantly;  re 
flection  shows  him  what  a  prodigious  aid  Marina's 
knowledge  of  her  native  island,  its  proud,  vengeful 
race  and  curious  customs,  will  be  to  him  in  his  search 
for  his  lost  bride. 

Of  this  he  has  almost  immediate  evidence.  Both 
have  their  eyes  upon  Corsica.  The  mists  of  the 
morning  are  slowly  rising  from  the  bluff  headlands 
of  Cape  Rosso;  before  the  vessel's  bow  rises  the  old 
Genoese  watch  tower  that  guards  the  little  harbour 
of  Porto,  from  which  is  shipped  the  pine  timber  of 
the  great  Valdoniello  forest. 

The  alert  Graham,  who  has  gazed  from  the  stern 
astounded  at  the  sudden  appearance  of  Mrs.  An- 
struther  on  board  his  craft,  leaving  the  wheel  to  a 
jack  tar,  now  comes  forward  and  touching  his  hat 
to  the  lady,  says :  "  Pleased  to  see  you  on  board, 
ma'am,  though  I'm  afraid,  Mr.  Barnes,  you'll  not 
think  we  kept  a  very  good  watch  on  deck.  Our  eyes 

200 


"BEWARE    THE    PATH    AHEAD!"       201 

were  always  on  the  sea,  trying  to  catch  sight  of  the 
damned  pirates."  A  moment  later,  he  remarks: 
"  With  this  wind,  we  can  make  the  coast  a  wee  bit 
farther  to  the  sou'." 

"  Then  do  so  !  "  commands  Marina.  "  Make  a 
landing,  if  you  can,  nearly  fifteen  miles  below  here 
at  Sagone." 

"  Why?  "  asked  Barnes,  some  surprise  in  his  tone. 

"  Sagone  by  its  mountain  path  is  the  nearest  port 
to  Bocognano.  They  dare  never  convey  your  wife 
through  Ajaccio.  A  single  word  from  her  to  any 
one  on  the  streets  of  the  capital  would  bring  De 
Belloc  and  his  soldiers  to  the  rescue,  if  the  gendarmes 
didn't  do  their  duty.  By  the  wild  mountain  paths 
they  can  take  Enid  to  Bocognano  unobserved  and 
unquestioned  by  the  wood  cutters  of  the  forest  glens 
or  the  shepherds  of  the  steep  pastures  of  Del  Oro." 

"  You  think  the  Seagull  will  be  at  Sagone?  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  answers  the  girl.  "  That  will  be 
proof  that  they  are  taking  her  to  Bocognano." 

"  Hoping  to  have  a  visit  from  me.  They  shall 
have  one  that  Corsica  will  remember,"  mutters 
Barnes,  a  steely  glint  in  his  eyes. 

"  Pah,"  answers  the  girl,  her  pride  of  race 
springing  up  in  her,  "  our  mountaineers  can  fight  as 
well  as  you.  The  Bellacoscia  brothers  can  shoot 
nigh  as  well  with  the  carbine  as  you  with  your 
pistols.  If  you  hope  to  rescue  your  wife  by  mere 


202  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

force  of  arms,  you  had  better  stay  on  board  and  let 
me  go  to  Bocognano  alone  to  see  if  my  friends  can 
not  help  me  bring  Enid  back  to  you." 

To  this  the  American  wisely  makes  no  reply,  but 
by  his  direction  Graham  immediately  alters  the 
course  of  the  vessel  further  to  the  south,  and  they 
dash  down  the  picturesque  coast  of  the  island,  whose 
forest  clad  mountains  run  to  the  very  waters  of  the 
sea,  till  they  weather  the  point  of  Cargese  and  open 
the  beautiful  Gulf  of  Sagone,  now  calm  as  a  summer 
lake. 

Here,  to  the  east,  in  the  far  recesses  of  the  bay, 
is  a  sail  gleaming  white  under  the  sun  that  has  just 
risen  over  the  wooded  headlands. 

Barnes  puts  his  field  glasses  upon  it  and  for  a  mo 
ment  thinks  it  some  fishing  craft,  but  the  Scotch 
mate  leaving  the  wheel  to  a  seaman's  hands,  springs 
forward,  takes  a  long  look  at  it;  then  borrows  the 
American's  glasses  and  runs  nimbly  up  the  rigging 
to  the  top  of  the  mast. 

From  his  eerie  post  he  calls  excitedly :  "  By  St. 
Andrew,  it's  the  Seagull!  " 

"  Can  Enid  be  on  board  of  her?  "  is  heard  in  Ma 
rina's  anxious  voice. 

"  I  can  ne'er  believe  it,"  answers  Graham,  as  he 
descends  to  the  deck,  "  for  the  vessel  is  anchored." 

"Anchored!  With  all  her  sails  up?"  dissents 
Barnes. 


"BEWARE    THE    PATH   AHEAD!"       203 

"  Oh,  that's  the  way  the  loons  have  left  the  craft." 

"You  are  sure?" 

"  Oh,  I'm  muckle  sure  of  her  mainsail,"  asserts 
Graham,  his  Scotch  growing  more  pronounced  in 
his  excitement,  "  but  by  the  deil,  I'm  equally  certain 
no  one  is  on  board  of  her.  No  crew  who  weren't  daft 
would  leave  a  craft  anchored  in  that  lubberly  way 
and  risk  their  bones  aboard  of  it." 

"  For  God's  sake,  get  us  to  the  yacht ! "  com 
mands  the  American. 

But  despite  every  exertion,  for  the  breeze  has 
died  with  the  rising  sun,  it  is  another  hour  before 
they  fan  their  way  near  the  Seagull.  Upon  its 
deck  is  a  solitary  man,  who  frantically  screams 
to  them :  "  A  moi,  mes  amis!  Rescue  me !  Sacre 
bleu,  ze  pirate  cochons  have  left  me.  I  am  Leboeuf, 
ze  cook ! " 

"  Take  heart ;  we'll  board  ye,  braw  Leboeuf ! " 
shouts  Graham,  and  carefully  conned  by  the  Scotch 
mate,  the  fishing  vessel  is  run  alongside  of  the  Sea- 
gull.  The  light  swell  permits  them  to  spring  from 
one  little  craft  to  the  other,  and  in  a  moment  Barnes 
has  assisted  Marina  onto  the  yacht's  deck. 

Here  they  are  met  by  volatile  exclamations  and 
explanations,  from  Monsieur  Leboeuf.  "  Diable, 
Monsieur  Barnes,"  he  cries  sympathetically,  "  ze 
pirates  have  carried  your  bride  away.  Zey  boarded 
me  at  ze  moment  I  was  placing  your  nuptial  supper 


204  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

on  ze  cabin  table  last  evening.  Zen  zey  gagged  me 
till  I  could  not  speak.  One — two — three  minutes 
and  she  came  on  board  in  ze  blackness.  Expecting 
to  meet  you,  Madame  Barnes  ran  down  into  ze  cabin, 
and  zen " 

"Then?"  Barnes's  face  is  set  like  that  of  a 
statue. 

"  Zen  zey  locked  ze  cabin  door  upon  Madame,  and 
though  she  cry  out,  pay  no  more  attention  to  her 
till  zey  had  got  under  way.  Zen — zen " 

"What  next?  "     Burton's  voice  is  hoarse. 

"  Aftaire  zat,  zey  come  to  me  and  say :  '  No  harm 
to  you.  Cook  us  a  good  meal,'  and  one  young  man, 
handsome-faced,  bright-eyed,  well-dressed  gallant, 
he  gave  me  a  louis  and  said :  fi  Feed  us  well  but  feed 
us  on  deck.  We  are  gentlemen;  we  do  not  intrude 
upon  a  lady.'  Zen  I  give  zem,  mon  Dieu,  ze  beauti 
ful  meal  I  have  prepared  for  your  first  diner  de  noces. 
Ah,  how  ze  pirates  ate  it ! " 

"  How  many  were  there? "  interjects  Barnes 
hurriedly. 

"  About  four,  monsieur.  Only  one  know  how  to 
sail  ze  ship.  But  ze  night  is  fine  and  aftaire  bring 
ing  me  to  make  ze  breakfast  during  ze  darkness, 
ce  matin  at  four  bells,  ze  one  who  knew  ze  coast 
steered  us  here.  Zen  zey  drop  ze  anchor  and  cry  to 
me :  '  Cook,  stay  on  board.  You  tell  ze  cursed 
Americano,  Signore  Barnes  of  New  York  to  come  to 


"BEWARE    THE    PATH   AHEAD!"       205 

Bocognano  if  he  would  rescue  his  wife.  We  have 
greeting  for  him  zere  vitch  he  vill  not  forget !  * 
Apres,  zay  all  take  off  zaire  hats,  as  ze  young  cava 
lier  bring  upon  deck  your  beautiful  lady,  who  looked 
like  a  goddess,  so  haughty,  so  noble.  To  him  as  he 
bowed  before  her,  she  says :  '  Monsieur  Bernardo 
Saliceti,  you  who  were  vere  un  gentilhomme  a  few 
days  ago  and  have  now  become  a  kidnapper,  tell 
your  savages  to  keep  zaire  hands  off  me  and  I  vill 
go  with  you.' 

"  To  me  she  command  as  she  stepped  into  ze  boat : 
6  Loboeuf,  have  a  good  meal  for  Mr.  Barnes,  who 
vill  be  coming  soon ! '  Zay  were  rowing  her  in  ze 
boat  to  ze  shore,  she  looking  so  beautiful  in  ze  little 
bride's  travelling  robe  zat  had  been  sent  on  board 
with  Madame's  baggage. 

"  To  her,  I  cry :  '  I'll  have  a  vaire  fine  dinner 
for  Monsieur,  your  husband.'  Zen  she  look  at  me 
with  her  eyes.  I  know  she  means  I  am  not  to  forget 
something.  Ah,  your  mariee  vas  vaire  brave.  Only 
once  in  ze  long  night,  as  I  listen  with  my  ears,  I  hear 
from  ze  cabin  a  short,  quick  sob :  '  My  husband ! ' 
and  zis  morning  her  soft  eyes  were  vaire  deep  in  her 
head  for  you,  Monsieur." 

As  she  listens,  there  are  tears  in  Marina's  dark 
orbs.  By  the  horrors  of  her  own  wedding  night, 
the  beautiful  Corsican  knows  what  a  bride  suffers 
when  she  fears  her  spouse  will  meet  the  stiletto. 


206  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  My  wife's  eyes  told  you  to  remember  some 
thing?  What  was  it?"  asks  Barnes  very  eagerly, 
though  his  gaze  is  dim. 

"  Oh,  voila!  Vhen  ze  ruffians  were  preparing  ze 
boat  for  her,  Madame  whispered  in  my  ear :  '  Tell 
my  husband  to  look  in  ze  third  drawer  of  ze  cabin 
locker.'  " 

Before  the  last  words  have  left  the  Frenchman's 
lips,  the  American  is  down  the  companionway  and 
has  torn  open  the  drawer  indicated.  Wincing  at  the 
sight  of  some  articles  of  lady's  lingerie  packed  by 
Tompson  during  the  previous  day  for  her  mistress's 
honeymoon  use,  the  bridegroom  hurriedly  tosses 
them  aside  and  produces  a  note,  the  superscription 
of  which,  in  the  dear  hand  he  knows,  makes  him 
falter.  It  is  simply  addressed:  "Mr.  Burton  H. 
Barnes,"  and  reads : 


MY  DARLING  HUSBAND: 

I  have  little  time  to  write,  for  they  are  preparing  to  take 
me  on  shore  in  a  boat.  We  are  now  anchored  off  Corsica 
somewhere. 

Last  evening,  through  some  careless  message  of  Tompson 
misinterpreted  by  my  own  eagerness,  I  came  on  board  the 
yacht  alone,  thinking  you  had  gone  there  before  me  to  avoid 
some  encounter  with  Danella  that  might  delay  our  wedding 
trip.  A  boat  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  landing  place.  In 
the  darkness,  during  the  short  hundred  yards  to  the  yacht,  I 
noticed  nothing  suspicious  in  the  oarsmen,  probably  because 
my  thoughts  were  so  entirely  of  you. 

Flying  into  the  cabin  expecting  to  meet  you,  I  heard  the 
doors  close  upon  me  and  a  voice  in  Corsican  French  say: 


"BEWARE    THE    PATH   AHEAD!"       207 

"She  is  ours!"  Then  the  slipping  of  bolts  outside  told  me 
I  was  a  prisoner.  No  cries  of  mine  or  commands  were  heeded. 
The  yacht  got  under  way. 

Ah,  what  a  night  I've  passed  here  in  this  cabin  that  should 
have  been  our  honeymoon  home,  thinking  of  your  misery  when 
you  found  you  had  lost  me. 

But  knowing  by  your  love  that  you  will  pursue  and  find  me, 
I  send  you  this  warning,  which  is  of  great  importance. 

I  have  learned  by  some  careless  French  conversation  that 
has  drifted  in  to  me  that  I  am  to  be  made  the  lure  to  bring 
you  to  the  death  of  the  Vendetta  in  Bocognano.  To  me  Sali- 
ceti  has  boasted  that  they  have  notified  you  they  take  me  to 
Corsica.  They  are  sure  your  affection  for  me  will  make  you 
follow  me,  rash  and  careless  in  your  agony.  There  Saliceti 
means  to  assassinate  you,  thinking  by  that  to  gain  the  votes 
of  his  peculiar  countrymen  because  he  has  nobly  fulfilled  his 
diabolical  oath  of  the  horrible  vendetta  that  they  worship. 
Therefore,  by  your  love  for  me,  my  husband,  I  charge  you 
not  to  risk  your  dear  life  unduly,  and  to  bring  with  you 
enough  friends  to  protect  you  from  these  assassins.  I  hear 
the  splash  of  the  boat  put  overboard;  they  will  be  coming 
for  me,  so  kiss  the  letter  where  I  sign  and  you'll  meet  the 
lips  of,  in  life  or  death,  always,  YOUR  WIFE. 


Clenching  his  hands  till  his  nails  are  bloodless, 
Barnes  reads  this  letter  carefully  twice.  Once  he 
gazes  up ;  but  the  sight  of  the  cabin  decorated  for 
his  honeymoon,  about  which  are  scattered  his  wife's 
dainty  belongings  brought  on  board  for  a  nuptial 
voyage,  makes  him  close  his  misty  eyes  with  a 
shudder. 

Leboeuf  is  now  calling  down  the  companionway : 
"  Monsieur,  I  have  obeyed  your  wife's  commands.  A 
good  meal  is  served  on  deck  for  you  and  Madame 
Anstruther." 


208  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

He  must  eat  to  keep  his  strength  up  for  the  work 
that  is  ahead  of  him.  The  American  steps  alertly 
on  deck  and  tries  to  show  his  appreciation  of  the 
French  chef's  art,  but  anguish  is  a  bar  to  appetite. 

Marina  also  only  drinks  a  cup  of  coffee. 

During  this  Graham  puts  two  or  three  of  his 
sailors  on  board  the  yacht;  they  lower  the  sails  and 
make  the  Seagull  for  the  moment  shipshape. 

After  a  moment  Barnes  passes  Enid's  letter  over 
to  Edwin's  wife.  When  she  has  read  it,  he  says :  "  I 
have  been  thinking  if  it  wouldn't  be  better  to  sail  to 
Ajaccio  and  get  De  Belloc  and  some  of  his  troopers 
to  go  with  us  to  Bocognano." 

"  With  De  Belloc  and  his  troopers  you  would 
never  find  her,"  answers  Marina.  "  The  sight  of 
their  cavalry  uniforms  would  be  signalled  up  the 
Valley  of  the  Gravona;  Enid  would  not  be  in  Boco 
gnano.  In  the  mountain  fastnesses  of  Del  Oro  they 
would  hide  her  where  you  would  never  find  her." 

"  Then  some  honest  countrymen,  from  this  neigh 
bourhood;  they  can  be  hired?  "  suggests  Barnes. 

"  But  not  by  a  foreigner  to  strike  against  a  Cor- 
sican,"  replies  Marina,  almost  proudly.  "  To  have 
any  hope  of  finding  your  wife  we  must  go  alone.  I'll 
lead  you  by  secret  paths  through  the  mountains ;  on 
the  main  road  did  they  see  you  coming  they  would 
ambush  and  kill  you."  Then  noting  that  the  young 
man  is  loading  himself  down  with  cartridges,  she 


"BEWARE    THE    PATH   AHEAD!"       209 

almost  sneers :  "  Don't  hope  to  shoot  your  way 
through  my  island,  where  every  shepherd  and  farmer 
carries  a  gun;  your  best  reliance  will  be  Corsican 
innate  hospitality  and  Corsican  inherent  love  of 
justice."  Her  eyes  looked  eagerly  upon  the  shore, 
she  rises  and  says,  resolutely :  "  Come !  " 

Barnes,  more  eager  than  she,  quickly  dresses  him 
self  in  the  simple  hunting  suit  he  has  brought  with 
him. 

"  Oh,  you  must  look  more  Corsican,"  cries  the 
girl,  and  deftly  puts  a  cock's  feather  plucked  from 
one  of  his  bride's  bonnets  in  his  hat.  "  Some  soot, 
Felix,"  she  commands  the  cook,  "  to  make  Monsieur's 
eyebrows  darker  and  his  moustache  black." 

"  Yes,  that's  it !  "  she  adds  eagerly. 

"And  you?"  asks  Barnes,  placing  his  eyes  on 
Marina's  white  Parisian  fete  dress. 

"  Oh,  I've  brought  a  Corsican  peasant's  costume 
with  me,"  and  the  lady  calls  to  Graham  to  bring  on 
board  a  little  bundle  she  had  left  upon  the  deck  of 
the  fishing  smack. 

Then  Marina  runs  down  the  companionway  and 
secludes  herself  in  the  salon  while  Barnes  gives  his 
directions  to  Graham.  "  You  had  better  return  that 
fishing  boat  to  Villefranche  by  two  of  your  crew." 

"  Yes,  even  a  land  lubber  can  sail  her  across  in 
this  fine  weather  without  any  trouble,"  answers  the 
mate.  "  Now,  as  for  me,  Mr.  Barnes,  I'm  unco 


210  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

ready,  I  and  my  jolly  jacks,  to  follow  you  to  the  top 
o*  that  crag,"  and  he  points  to  distant  Del  Oro, 
"  and  take  our  chance  of  life  or  death  against  those 
Corsican  caterans  for  the  sake  o'  the  beautiful 
lady  we  gie  our  hearts  to  when  she  was  on  the 
yacht." 

"  I  am  sorry,  my  gallant  fellow,  I  cannot  take 
you  with  me,"  answers  the  American ;  "  only  Marina 
and  I  must  go." 

"  Hoot,  man !  not  lone  wi'  that  delicate  lassie." 

"  We  are  safer  alone  than  with  a  few,"  replies 
Barnes.  "  But  have  the  yacht  ready  to  sail  and  a 
sharp  lookout  kept  for  me.  During  the  night  have 
a  boat  ashore  there  with  a  couple  of  men  in  it, 
so  that,  if  necessary,  I  may  immediately  come  on 
board  of  you." 

"  Aye,  aye !  Night  and  day  I'll  look  for  you," 
answers  the  mate. 

"  Now,  bring  the  boat  alongside." 

"  Not  yet,  Monsieur,"  cries  Lebceuf,  issuing  from 
the  galley,  "  not  without  something  to  eat,  to  sup 
port  you  and  Madame,"  and  he  produces  a  big 
haversack  filled  with  provisions. 

"  You're  right.  By  evening  we  shall  be  hungry, 
if  not  before,"  answers  the  American,  "  and  it  will 
be  best  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  native  inns." 
He  calls :  "  Madame  Anstruther,  I  am  ready !  " 

"  And  so  am  I."     And  Marina  trips  to  the  deck, 


"BEWARE    THE    PATH   AHEAD!"       211 

a  peasant  girl  of  her  island — her  dark  brown  tresses 
shaded  by  the  graceful  mandile  and  a  faldetta  of 
grey  cloth  draping  her  agile  figure.  Her  short 
skirts  disclose  her  delicate  feet  shod  in  strong  coun 
try  shoes  fit  for  use  over  the  stones  of  mountain 
paths. 

Both  are  eager.  Within  five  minutes  they  are 
in  the  boat,  and  pulled  by  two  Scotch  tars,  soon 
land  upon  the  rocky  shore.  As  Marina's  feet  touch 
the  soil,  she  looks  at  it  passionately  and  murmurs 
bitterly :  "  To  think  that  I  come  back  to  my  native 
island  with  the  hands  of  so  many  of  the  friends  of 
my  childhood  against  me,  with  so  many  hearts  that 
once  turned  toward  me  turned  away."  Then  she 
draws  herself  up  and  says  desperately,  yet  proudly: 
"  But  I  will  show  to  them  my  hands  are  free  of  the 
blood  of  Tomasso  Monaldi."  Bitter  tears  glisten 
coursing  down  her  cheeks,  as  she  falters :  "  That  I 
should  be  compelled  to  prove  that  I  plotted  no  harm 
to  the  dear  old  man  I  loved  is  monstrous  and  horri 
ble.  Saliceti,  because  he  would  have  votes  from  the 
simple  peasants  and  wood  cutters,  has  branded  me 
murderess !  I  will  brand  him  liar !  I  am  a  Corsi- 
can !  "  The  same  fire  flashes  in  her  eyes  as  when  she 
bent  over  her  brother's  dead  body  after  the  duel, 
and  decreed  the  vendetta  that  has  brought  such 
misery  to  them  all. 

This  is  the  spirit  Barnes  needs  in  his  companion 


212  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

for  this  adventure,  undaunted  resolution,  undying 
courage.  "  En  avant!  "  he  says,  almost  cheerfully. 

Clambering  over  the  sea-washed  rocks,  they  reach 
the  green  woodland,  and  soon  through  its  soft  foli 
age  of  ilex,  beech  and  wild  citron,  tread  a  romantic 
path  that  leads  them  to  the  more  dusty  highway 
which  skirts  the  coast,  slightly  to  the  south  of  the 
little  quay  of  Sagone.  This  Marina  says  is  fortu 
nate,  that  they  need  not  excite  curiosity  by  passing 
through  the  seaside  village  to  reach  the  road  to 
Vico,  by  which  they  will  strike  east  to  reach  the  vast 
glen  between  Monte  Rotondo  and  Monte  Del  Oro, 
whose  great  peaks  tipped  with  snow  loom  up  above 
the  series  of  hills  running  from  their  bases,  which 
are  clothed  by  pine  forests  and  chestnut  woods  with 
that  soft  yet  vivid  green  so  charming  in  Corsican 
landscapes. 

A  little  while  along  this  road,  roasting  beneath  the 
hot  sun  and  stifled  by  the  dust  of  early  summer,  when 
Marina  says,  pointing  to  a  farmer's  house :  "  Stay 
here  and  I'll  bargain  for  the  use  of  two  of  the  native 
ponies  I  see  in  his  barnyard." 

A  few  minutes  of  apparently  excited  gesticulation 
and  talk  with  the  peasant  who  is  hoeing  in  his  field, 
and  she  brings  into  the  road  two  sturdy,  shaggy 
brown  ponies. 

Mounting  astride  one  of  these,  Corsican  fashion, 
Marina  says  almost  gaily :  "  We  have  the  beasts  for 


"BEWARE    THE    PATH   AHEAD!"       213 

a  week  at  thirty  francs  apiece.  Now  I  feel  at  home 
again." 

Upon  the  other  Barnes  would  dash  forward,  but 
some  very  serious  words  from  his  companion  stop 
him.  "  It  was  lucky  I  saw  that  farmer.  He  said : 
*  I  would  give  you  a  more  gentle  beast,  girl,  had  not 
four  men  three  hours  ago  engaged  my  gentle  Man- 
dalina  for  a  lady's  use.  Of  course,  my  best  was  at 
Signore  Saliceti's  order.  I  had  heard  him  speak  up 
in  the  mountains  at  the  polling  booth  great  words 
on  the  glory  of  Corsica,  which  had  given  France  a 
Bonaparte  and  one  day  would  give  her  another.' ' 

Suddenly  the  girl  calls :  "  But  you  cannot  over 
take  Enid  in  a  second,"  for  the  American's  heels  are 
beating  a  tattoo  on  the  sides  of  his  sturdy  little  cob, 
and  he  is  hurrying  forward  muttering :  "  Three 
hours  ahead  of  me.  Perhaps  we  can  overtake  my 
darling  before  night !  " 

"  Don't  ride  so  fast,"  exclaims  his  companion, 
galloping  her  pony  to  him.  Then  her  voice  growing 
very  solemn,  she  says  warningly :  "  From  some  hill 
top,  should  we  get  too  near,  they  will  see  us  coming, 
and  in  a  vendetta  ambush,  some  knife  might  reach 
not  only  your  heart  but — Enid's.  When  you  have 
enemies  in  Corsica,  beware  the  path  ahead  of  you ! " 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    MOUNTAIN    CHALET 

FORCED  to  a  more  moderate  pace,  the  two  journey 
up  the  winding  road  between  some  cornfields  made 
red  by  poppies.  Soon  after  they  pass  into  the 
wooded  hill  lands,  their  path  bordered  by  myrtles 
and  arbutus.  Once  they  pause  to  drink  at  a  cool 
fountain  and  a  boy  of  sixteen,  who  is  followed  by  a 
herd  of  goats,  and  has  a  gun  slung  over  his  shoulder, 
says :  "  'Tis  good,  Signorita,  your  man  has  a  rifle, 
if  you  journey  toward  the  macchia.  Rochini  has 
come  out  of  his  cavern." 

After  a  little,  the  way  grows  wilder,  the  hills  much 
steeper,  and  climbing  the  lofty  Colle  di  San  Antonio 
they  can  look  down  upon  hill  vistas,  beautifully 
wooded,  that  descend  to  the  distant  sea.  In  the 
sunlit  gleam  of  the  far-off  water,  Barnes,  using  his 
field  glasses,  sees  the  yacht  lying  alone  at  anchor. 
"  Graham  has  sent  back  the  fishing  smack,"  he 
says. 

"  Then  thank  the  Virgin,"  cries  Marina,  "  another 
letter  is  going  to  my  husband  telling  him  his  dis 
obedient  wife  is  trying  to  save  his  sister."  Here  the 
heroine's  brave  eyes  filled  with  tears;  she  smites  her 

214 


THE    MOUNTAIN    CHALET  215 

little  hands  together  and  mutters :  "  In  Egypt, 
Edwin  never  forgave  disobedience  in  his  men.  Oh, 
Signore  Barnes,  will  he  forgive  me?  " 

"  He  will  probably  kiss  you  to  death  when  he  puts 
his  hands  on  you,"  remarks  the  American,  shortly. 

"  Dio  mio,  what  a  happy  execution ! "  exclaims 
the  volatile  creature,  and  urges  her  pony  after  that 
of  her  companion,  who  has  again  turned  his  eager 
eyes  toward  the  great  mountains,  that  are  nearer. 

They  descend  sharply  into  the  little  valley  of  the 
Liamone,  and  enter  the  village  of  Vico,  whose  inn 
is  now  welcoming  the  first  summer  visitors  from 
Aj  accio. 

Here  Marina  says :  "  'Twould  be  wrong  if  I  sent 
not  a  telegram  to  my  anxious  spouse."  So  they 
dismount  at  the  little  telegraph  office  peculiar  to 
Corsican  villages.  As  they  slip  in,  a  countryman 
slouches  out  and  mounting  a  horse  rides  off  up  the 
main  street.  Her  message  despatched,  Marina  com 
ing  from  the  office,  says :  "  How  hurriedly  that 
fellow  went  away." 

"  You  think  he  was  looking  for  us  ?  "  asks  Barnes, 
as  he  places  her  on  her  pony. 

"  Perhaps ;  Bernardo  is  astute.  He  may  guess 
that  his  message  to  you  brought  ybu  after  him  by 
water  and  that  you  would  find  the  yacht." 

"  Then  after  him ! "  says  Burton,  and  turning 
more  to  the  east  they  follow  a  rapid  stream,  passing 


216  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

the  Sulphur  Baths  of  Guagno,  where  they  can  see 
the  diligence  depositing  patients  at  its  hospital  for 
rheumatics. 

They  have  not  overtaken  the  man,  but  no  one 
has  passed  them  on  the  road,  their  pace  has  been  so 
rapid.  The  peasants  they  have  seen,  so  many  of 
them  carrying  guns  that  Barnes  thinks  he  is  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  have  received  the  usual  greetings 
in  the  patois  of  the  country  from  Marina,  her  escort 
wisely  keeping  his  sombrero  pulled  down  over  his 
eyes  and  saying  nothing.  But  now  a  farmer,  paus 
ing,  says :  "  Girl,  you  and  your  man  had  better  not 
go  beyond  Guagno.  Last  night  the  two  accursed 
bandits,  Rochini  and  his  mate,  killed  Nicolo,  the  sheep 
grower,  up  at  his  house  by  the  lake  and  carried  off 
his  daughter." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  advice,"  answers  Marina 
politely.  She  glances  at  Barnes,  but  he  scarcely 
heeds.  He  is  urging  his  pony  toward  the  mountain 
pass  through  which  Enid  must  now  be  journeying. 

Finally  two  men  come  along,  their  guns  slung  over 
their  velveteen  coats.  With  them  is  a  woman  bearing 
a  child ;  a  donkey  cart  carries  some  household  imple 
ments  and  a  flock  of  goats  is  following  them.  The 
men  moodily  respond  to  Marina's  salute;  the  woman 
runs  after  her  and  says  under  her  breath :  "  You 
were  Signorita  Paoli ;  I  beg  you  to  keep  from  the 
mountain  path.  Rochini  and  his  villain  comrade, 


THE    MOUNTAIN    CHALET  217 

Romano,  last  night  slew  the  farmer  who  lived  up  the 
pass  from  us  and  carried  off  the  daughter,  poor 
Alicia.  I  give  you  warning,  though  you  espoused 
the  Englishman  who  slew  your  brother." 

Then  one  of  the  men  calls  after  her  and  she  darts 
away,  leaving  Marina  with  tears  of  shame  in  her 
eyes.  "  Mon  Dieu,  they  all  believe  it  of  me,"  sighs 
the  girl.  "  On  the  other  side  of  the  mountains  where 
all  know  me,  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"Who  is  this  Rochini?  "  asks  Barnes,  to  take 
Mrs.  Austruther's  thoughts  to  happier  things. 

"  He  and  his  fellows  are  the  only  bandits  of  which 
Corsica  is  not  proud,"  answers  the  girl,  savagely. 
"  This  wretch  with  his  underlings  murders  men  for 
money.  Other  bandits  only  kill  for  hate  or  to  escape 
capture  by  the  gendarmes.  Also  this  Rochini  drags 
shrieking  women  to  his  lair,  while  other  bandits  doff 
their  hats  to  ladies." 

Then  as  they  ride  along  the  Corsican  girl  gives 
Mr.  Barnes  some  curious  information  about  bandits. 

"  This  murderous  Rochini  is  not  of  our  commune ; 
he  has  been  driven  from  Rotondo  by  the  farmers  be 
cause  of  his  outrages  and  came  over  to  Del  Oro," 
she  remarks,  excitedly.  "  Our  own  Bocognano  ban 
dits,  the  brave  Bellacoscia,"  Marina's  tone  is  proud, 
"  whose  family  name  is  Bonelli,  only  fled  to  the 
mountains  to  escape  pursuit  from  our  cruel  gen 
darmes,  because,  forsooth,  the  elder  Antonio  killed 


218  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Marc'  Angeli,  who  dared  to  marry  the  girl  upon 
whom  he  had  set  his  heart.  The  younger,  Giacomo, 
because  he  would  not  endure  the  French  conscription, 
so  he  slew  the  brigadier  and  his  men  wtio  came  to 
arrest  him.  Still  Antonio  Bonelli,  when  the  Teu 
tons  overran  France,  offered  to  go  over  and  fight 
the  German  Von  Moltke  with  his  five  hundred  Bella- 
coscia — brothers,  sons,  grandsons  and  nephews — if 
they  would  give  him  safe  conduct  from  arrest.  At 
first  Monsieur  Gambetta  accepted,  then  he  refused, 
fearing  there  might  be  a  new  Bonaparte  among 
these  Corsicans  to  again  save  France  and  rule  the 
country." 

"  Oh,  we  are  devoted  to  the  Bellacoscia,"  she  con 
tinues  fervidly.  "  Every  boy  by  the  wayside  gives 
them  warning  of  the  gendarmes ;  every  child  picking 
flowers  in  the  mountains  tells  them  of  the  coming  of 
the  brigadiers  who  would  capture  or  slay  them. 
Though  many  men  and  women,  some  of  gentle  blood, 
are  placed  in  prison  for  aiding  them,  the  authorities 
never  receive  information  from  their  lips.  Why, 
over  a  score  of  the  Bellacoscia  danced  at  my  wed 
ding.  Dark-eyed  men  with  sheepskin  coats,  all  armed 
with  double-barrelled  guns,  carbines,  and  stilettos 
with  '  vendetta  '  engraved  upon  them.  But  these 
wretches,  Rochini  and  Romano,  are  abhorred  by  all, 
and  blessings  would  be  showered  on  any  who  might 
bring  their  bodies  into  Bocognano." 


THE    MOUNTAIN   CHALET  219 

Barnes  has  heard  something  of  the  Bellacoscia, 
as  everyone  who  has  ever  been  in  Corsica  has,  but 
he  cannot  restrain  a  smile  at  the  girl's  fervid  sym 
pathy  for  bandits. 

All  this  has  been  said  as  they  hurried  through  the 
dust  and  sun  for  three  more  miles.  They  enter  the 
village  of  Guagno.  There  is  no  way  of  avoiding  the 
hamlet;  it  stands  almost  at  the  entrance  of  the  deep 
gorge  between  the  two  great  mountains — besides, 
the  ponies  need  rest. 

"  It  would  be  better  if  we  were  not  seen  here," 
suggests  Marina,  "  though  the  inn  looks  comfort 
able." 

"  And  you  must  both  rest  and  eat,"  remarks 
Barnes,  who  has  noticed  that  his  fragile  companion, 
unaccustomed  to  the  severe  exercise  of  horseback 
travel  in  the  hot  sun  and  stifling  dust,  is  somewhat 
fatigued. 

They  ride  up  to  the  auberge,  dismount  and  give 
their  ponies  to  the  care  of  a  Corsican  boy,  who 
leads  them  away. 

Entering,  they  are  met  by  the  loquacious  landlord, 
who  tells  them,  as  they  demand  a  hurried  meal,  that 
business  is  not  very  brisk,  the  season  being  too  early 
for  many  invalids  at  the  baths,  besides  all  travellers 
are  kept  from  the  mountains  beyond  by  fear  of 
Rochini  and  Romano. 

"  May  the  curse  of  God  rest  on  them — they  spoil 


220  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

my  business  even  down  here,"  says  the  hotel  man 
savagely  as  he  goes  to  bring  the  food. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  had  better  go  with  me  far 
ther,"  remarks  Barnes  seriously. 

"  What,  stand  back  because  a  murderer  threatens 
the  way  to  Enid? "  cries  Marina.  "  Besides,  you 
can  shoot  your  pistol." 

"  Then  may  God  curse  me  if  I  let  harm  come  to 
you  for  your  devotion  to  my  wife,"  returns  the 
American  with  grateful  eyes. 

"  Then  I'm  safe,"  says  the  Corsican  girl  simply, 
who  has  supreme  faith  in  the  deadly  marksmanship 
of  her  escort. 

From  the  little  garden  outside,  the  conversation 
of  two  rustics  drifts  in  to  them.  One  is  apparently 
a  local  wool  buyer,  the  other  a  shepherd  from  the 
neighbouring  mountain,  who  is  bargaining  with  him 
for  his  shearing. 

A  moment  later  their  host  places  the  dinner  in 
front  of  them.  "  Here  are  trout  from  our  Liamone, 
a  filch  of  moufflon  killed  on  Rotondo  and  some  chianti 
made  from  the  vines  outside.  Real  moufflon,  real 
chianti,  besides  chestnuts  from  my  own  grove !  "  he 
remarks  proudly,  as  he  arranges  their  knives  and 
forks. 

"  You  have  also  a  few  visitors,  I  presume,  to  eat 
them?"  queries  Marina,  sympathetically. 

"  Oh,  none  to-day ;  there  are  not  enough  invalids 


THE    MOUNTAIN   CHALET  221 

at  the  baths ;  the  season  is  too  early.  Besides,  young 
Saliceti  didn't  stop  here  with  his  party,  but  hurried 
on  three  hours  ago.  Does  that  young  statesman  ex 
pect  to  get  the  vote  of  Vincenzo,  the  landlord?  Not 
even  a  drink  of  wine  did  he  buy.  But  the  reprobate 
has  an  eye  for  beauty  if  not  for  political  influence. 
A  yellow-haired  girl  was  with  him,  though  his  fol 
lowers  kept  so  close  about  her  I  could  not  see  her 
face.  Gran  Dio,  if  Etheria,  the  black  head,  the 
daughter  of  the  dead  Monaldi,  who  was  shot  by  the 
soldiers,  sees  the  yellow  head,  she  will  put  dagger  in 
her  like  her  father  did  into  poor  Musso  Danella. 
But  I  give  you  additional  warning.  To-night  you 
must  stay  in  my  inn.  Toward  the  mountains  there 
is  another  bandit,  an  extra  one." 

"  An  extra  bandit !  "     Barnes  opens  his  eyes. 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  asks  Marina. 

"How?  Why,  even  the  accursed  Rochini  and  his 
fellow,  who  murder  men  and  seize  women,  never  steal 
from  me,  who  fearing  their  knives  give  them  wine 
and  warning  of  the  gendarmes ;  but  this  new  fellow 
sneaks  down  at  night  and  eats  my  chickens.  May 
Satan  take  him,  he  has  the  appetite  of  a  table 
d'hote!" 

"  Nevertheless,  we  must  risk  the  unprofessional 
chicken  thief  and  go  to  the  mountains,"  says  Marina, 
determinedly,  as  she  goes  away,  attended  by  mine 
host,  to  make  preparations  for  her  departure. 


MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Barnes,  having  five  minutes  for  a  whiff,  produces 
his  cigar  case,  and  utters  an  execration — in  his  haste 
and  anxiety  he  has  brought  no  supply  with  him  and 
has  only  one  Havana  left,  but  some  words  entering 
from  the  two  rustics  amid  the  vines  of  the  garden 
outside,  cause  him  to  forget  even  his  last  cigar. 

Their  trade  being  closed,  they  are  now  discussing 
local  news.  "  Diavolo,"  remarks  the  wool  trader, 
"  did  you  meet  young  Saliceti  on  the  road?  " 

"  Aye,  that  I  did,  three  miles  above,  near  the 
waterfall.  To  me  he  said :  '  Good  Luigi,  shall  I 
have  your  vote  for  deputy?'  'That  you  will,'  said 
I,  '  great  Saliceti,  when  you  perform  your  oath  of 
vendetta  against  the  Americano  who  came  to  Boco- 
gnano  and  by  De  Belloc's  soldiers  killed  the  man  who 
would  have  been  your  father-in-law.'  '  Then  I  shall 
have  it,'  he  cried.  '  Just  wait  here  for  a  couple  of 
hours,  and  you'll  see  it  done.'  But  I  had  to  meet  you 
to  sell  my  wool,  besides  I  remembered  Rochini  and 
his  murderous  gun,  and  so  I  came  along." 

"  Cospetto,  if  Saliceti  does  it,  he  has  my  vote 
also !  "  cries  the  wool  trader.  "  The  crafty  politician 
must  have  the  Americano  trapped  somehow.  It  was 
rumoured  that  the  devil  fled  with  the  Englishman 
whom  Mademoiselle  Paoli  wedded,  though  he  had 
slain  her  brother.  Santos,  may  death  come  to  a  girl 
who  for  lust  betrays  her  race." 

To  this  Barnes  listens  impatiently  but  seriously. 


THE    MOUNTAIN   CHALET  223 

Then  spends  the  last  moments  of  his  cigar  contem 
plating  the  problem  before  him  into  which  has  en 
tered  the  strange  complication  of  politics.  Barnes 
knows  Corsico  indifferently  well.  He  has  been  on 
the  island  twice  and  spent  a  month  or  so  hunting 
moufflon  with  the  dead  Danella  on  the  crags  of  the 
great  mountains  Rotondo  and  Del  Oro,  which  rise 
above  him,  but  the  passions  of  a  race  who  will  elect 
a  man  to  office  because  he  has  committed  the  murder 
of  the  vendetta  he  cannot  analyse.  For  that  is  the 
principal  reason  he  is  now  convinced  that  actuates 
the  young  politician  Bernardo  Saliceti  in  his  devilish 
course  to  Enid  and  himself. 

"  This  political  hustler  wants  to  sacrifice  me  on 
their  altar  of  vengeance,  so  as  to  draw  their  votes," 
cogitates  Barnes  savagely.  "  By  the  Eternal,  he 
shall  have  an  ox  at  his  barbecue  who  will  disagree 
with  his  stomach !  " 

There  is  a  peculiar  glint  in  the  American's  eyes  as, 
five  minutes  later,  he  places  Marina  carefully  upon 
her  pony,  and  they  leave  the  inn.  He  has  inspected 
his  weapons  carefully;  he  now  asks  almost  lightly: 
"  By  the  bye,  Madame  Anstruther,  do  you  know  a 
waterfall  some  three  miles  up  this  path?  "  For  all 
traces  of  a  waggon  road  have  ended  at  Guagno,  leav 
ing  only  a  little  bridle  path  that  runs  up  the  foaming 
Liamone,  which,  contracted  in  its  banks,  has  become 
a  torrent. 


224  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Marina  thinks  a  moment ;  then  says :  "  Oh,  yes  ; 
I  remember  a  mountain  trail  often  travelled  as  a  girl. 
But  it  is  very  steep." 

"  Would  you  kindly  show  it  to  me  when  we  come 
to  it?" 

They  dash  up  the  gorge  for  half  a  mile  and  she 
says  sharply,  "  It  is  here,"  pointing  to  a  steep  ascent 
that,  cumbered  by  ferns  and  wild-flowers,  makes  a 
most  unpromising  roadway.  Then  she  catches  her 
breath  and  whispers:  "You  expect  an  ambush?" 
for  the  American  has  now  his  rifle  on  the  saddle  in 
front  of  him,  Western  fashion,  and  his  pistols  ready 
in  his  belt. 

"  I  do,"  answered  Barnes,  and  relates  the  words 
of  the  shepherd. 

"  Quick !  "  cries  the  girl.  "  This  trail  will  take 
you  right  up  Del  Oro,  where  you  can  look  down  on 
Bocognano.  By  it,  you  will  get  between  your 
enemies  and  your  destination." 

"  My  destination  is  my  wife.  She  is  in  this  valley 
with  those  men." 

"  Oh,  I  think  not.  Saliceti  is  too  crafty.  He  is 
still  conveying  Enid  to  Bocognano  and  has  left  only 
some  of  his  followers  to  slay  you.  Come  on." 

Barnes  follows  his  guide  up  the  steep  little  path, 
that  covered  with  vines  and  wild-flowers  is  difficult  to 
discern,  but  after  they  had  gone  a  few  hundred  yards, 
the  rocks  growing  larger,  the  trail  more  precipitous, 


THE    MOUNTAIN    CHALET  225 

Marina  says :  "  Here  we  must  leave  our  ponies  and 
climb  on  foot."  So  they  pasture  the  two  hardy  little 
brutes  in  a  vale  full  of  soft  grasses  and  leave  them 
munching  contentedly,  Barnes,  slinging  his  haver 
sack  over  his  shoulder,  Marina  having  nothing  to 
carry  with  her. 

Before  her  now  strides  the  American,  his  alert 
eyes  always  glancing  down  the  steep  declivities  to 
their  left,  for  the  almost  unused  trail  they  are  fol 
lowing  is  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  travelled  bridle 
path  that  keeps  to  the  torrent,  dashing  through  the 
bottom  of  the  valley.  After  nearly  an  hour  of  this, 
the  noise  of  a  waterfall  strikes  their  ears,  gradually 
growing  louder. 

Five  minutes  later,  Barnes  holds  up  his  hand  cau 
tiously.  Marina's  glance  follows  his ;  far  below  them, 
concealed  in  the  big  rocks  that  skirt  the  stream  at 
the  little  bridge  near  the  waterfall,  are  several 
crouching  armed  men.  A  little  farther  down  the 
rapid,  in  the  top  of  a  big  beech  tree,  is  perched 
another,  his  hand  shading  his  eyes  from  the  rays  of 
the  declining  sun  that  shines  in  his  face  as  he  looks 
down  the  pathway  coming  from  the  east.  The 
mountain  sides  are  clothed  with  ilex,  beech  and  larch 
trees,  decked  with  mistletoe  and  climbing  cyclamen, 
the  fragrance  from  the  myriad  flowers  of  Corsica 
mix  with  the  sweet  odours  of  the  pine  and  spruce — 
above  the  cliffs,  the  hills  rise  abruptly  to  the  great 


226  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

summits  of  Del  Oro  and  Rotondo,  spears  of  snow  in 
transparent  air,  below  flows  the  rushing  torrent,  a 
living  stream  of  sunshine.  The  \iale  is  paradise, 
filled  with  death. 

"  These  gentlemen  are  waiting  for  me,"  remarks 
the  American,  in  his  face  the  supreme  joy  of  a 
sportsman  who  will  bag  not  only  one  head,  but  a 
battue.  He  puts  his  rifle  on  the  ground,  loosens  both 
revolvers  in  his  belt  and  asks :  "  The  way  to  descend 
the  precipice  from  here?  " 

"Why?"  falters  the  girl. 

"  Why  ?  Because  I  am  now  the  hunter,"  answers 
Barnes.  "  Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  spare  the 
wretches  who  have  stolen  my  wife?  None  of  them! 
Quick,  the  path  by  which  I  can  intercept  them  and 
cut  them  off  to  the  last  man !  " 

Marina  looks  at  his  fatal  pistols  and  shudders: 
"'Thank  God,  there  is  no  path!  " 

"  Ah,  then  I  will  have  to  be  content  with  the 
sentry,  that  fellow  in  the  beech  tree  there." 

"  My  God,  if  you  kill  any  of  them,"  gasps  Marina, 
"  you  will  never  get  Enid  out  of  the  island  alive. 
You  came  to"  save  her,  not  to  murder  her."  She  puts 
a  white  imploring  hand  on  Barnes,  who  is  already 
preparing  his  rifle.  Then  she  suddenly  half  cries : 
"  Your  wife !  You  want  her !  "  and  points  far  up  to 
the  top  of  the  pass  between  the  two  great  moun 
tains,  Rotondo  and  Del  Oro,  and  Barnes's  eyes  fol- 


THE    MOUNTAIN    CHALET  227 

lowing  her  hand,  he  sees  figures  silhouetted  against 
the  clear  blue  Alpine  air.  All  are  mounted,  and  one 
is  surely  a  woman. 

"  You  think  that  is  my  wife?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  Saliceti  has  only  left  some  of 
his  men  behind  to  waylay  you  if  you  come  on  un 
guardedly." 

Barnes  doesn't  even  answer  her.  His  quick  steps 
are  carrying  him  so  rapidly  in  pursuit  along  the 
dizzy  mountain  path  that  Marina,  though  the  poor 
girl  half  runs,  can  scarce  keep  up  with  him. 

Their  path  leads  along  the  precipices,  now  and 
again  reaching  some  little  mountain  valley  through 
which  a  stream  trickles  between  stunted  pines,  and 
about  whose  rocks  are  growing  the  sweet  forget-me- 
nots  and  violets  of  Corsica.  Once  they  skirt  rapidly 
a  little  blue  lake  whose  waters  fall  over  a  cliff  to 
join  the  Liamone,  running  far  below,  and  so  on  and 
on  toward  the  upper  slopes  of  the  Del  Oro. 

But  as  they  near  the  summit  of  the  mountain, 
darkness  comes  also  and  a  blinding  mist,  cold  with 
the  chill  of  melted  snow,  descends  upon  them,  and 
enveloping  them  with  a  fleecy  sheen,  the  rocks  and 
lichens  about  the  path  are  shrouded  fr.om  their  gaze. 

They  are  above  the  timber  line  and  the  great  bare 
granite  blocks  bruise  Marina's  tender  feet  as  they 
stumble  among  them. 

The  girl  lays  her  hand  upon  her  companion's  arm. 


228  MR.    BARNES,   AMERICAN 

"  We  may  reach  the  summit  before  darkness,"  she 
pants,  out  of  breath,  "  but  the  dizzy  descent  on  the 
other  side  is  impossible  without  daylight." 

"  I  remember,"  answers  Burton.  "  I  have  passed 
down  it  hunting  moufflon."  Then  he  takes  off  his 
hunting  coat  and  places  it  carefully  over  the  delicate 
shoulders  of  his  fragile  companion,  already  shivering 
in  her  light  summer  garment  under  the  icy  mist 
about  her.  "  I  am  thinking  of  some  shelter  for  you, 
for  we  must  pass  the  night  upon  the  mountain,"  he 
says  tenderly ;  then  asks  anxiously :  "  Do  you  know 
one?  " 

"  Y-e-s,"  she  replies,  her  teeth  chattering,  "  if  we 
can  reach  it  in  this  storm.  The  little  chalet  where 
poor  old  Tomasso  sometimes  took  me  when  he 
brought  me  here  as  a  child  to  pluck  the  flowers  of 
the  mountain." 

With  this  she  turns  abruptly  to  the  left,  and 
Barnes  following  her,  they  struggle  up  a  couloir 
filled  with  massive  boulders,  but  nearing  the  summit 
the  mist  becomes  colder,  the  wind  sharper  and  the 
gloom  more  deep.  Surrounded,  as  they  are,  by 
frightful  precipices,  this  is  appalling. 

"  I've  lost  my  way,"  mutters  Marina,  her  voice  low 
with  f aintness,  but  a  moment  after  she  cries :  "  Ah, 
see  the  granite  cliff.  Follow  its  wall!  The  cabin 
is  beneath  it.  But  beware !  beyond  the  cabin  there  is 
a  very  deep  crevice." 


THE    MOUNTAIN    CHALET  229 

The  wind  howls  about  them.  The  night  is  even 
blacker,  but  keeping  the  sheen  of  the  cliff  close  at 
his  left,  Barnes  stumbles  over  the  granite  slabs 
almost  carrying  the  exhausted  girl.  Finally,  com 
pelled  by  the  howling  of  the  wind,  he  calls  into  her 
ear :  "  Courage !  I  see  the  hut.  Thank  God,  some 
one  has  a  fire  inside  it." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  made  by  the  awful  bandits,  the 
Rochini  and  Romano  who  murder  so  many  poor 
travellers,"  shudders  Marina. 

But  undeterred  by  this,  using  the  light  as  a  bea 
con,  her  escort  rapidly  approaches  the  open  door  of 
the  little  cabin,  from  which  issues  a  cheerful  gleam. 

Suddenly  they  pause,  for  a  deep  tone  issues  threat 
eningly  from  its  interior :  "  Hola,  if  you  are  gen 
darmes,  beware  of  me !  " 

"  Madre  mm"  gasps  Marina,  with  a  low  scream, 
"  that  voice."  Her  eyes  roll  in  her  head. 

"  Bandit  or  no  bandit,  you  shall  give  us  warmth 
and  shelter ! "  calls  Barnes  in  answer.  Then  he, 
too,  stands  astounded,  as  from  the  rough  door  strides 
a  man,  and  outlined  by  the  flickering  blazes  and  sur 
rounded  by  the  mists  of  the  mountains  is  a  face  that 
makes  Marina  tremble  and  shrink :  "  Holy  Mother 
of  God,  a  ghost !  " 

For  it  is  the  countenance  of  her  foster  father,  old 
Tomasso  Monaldi,  whom  everyone  had  thought  dead 
from  the  night  of  her  wedding. 


230  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

But  now  the  goblin  recognises  her ;  it  cries :  "  Ma 
rina  !  daughter  of  my  heart !  you  have  come  to 
succour  your  poor  old  hunted  down  Tomasso,"  and 
sinking  on  his  knees,  it  catches  the  half  fainting 
girl's  hand,  and  kisses  it  reverently. 

"You,  alive,  dear  old  Tomasso?  Impossible!" 
half  shudders,  half  sobs  the  girl,  sinking  down  beside 
the  spirit  and  looking  into  his  deep,  dark  eyes  that 
gleam  so  lovingly  upon  her. 

"  Two  weeks  ago,  on  the  morning  of  the  tragedy, 
De  Belloc's  soldiers  reported  to  that  officer  in  my 
presence  that  they'd  killed  you,"  says  Barnes,  im 
pressively. 

"  Bah !  "  sneers  the  ghost ;  "  the  sergeant,  I  sup 
pose,  told  his  officer  they  shot  me.  The  soldiers  fired. 
It  was  easier  for  me  to  fall  down  behind  a  granite 
boulder  than  stand  up  and  let  them  shoot  again, 
though  it  was  the  darkness  of  the  early  morning. 
Then  I  came  up  on  the  mountain  here,  and  fearing 
the  soldiers  would  again  pursue  me,  I  have  been  a 
hermit,  descending  at  night  to  the  lower  valleys  to 
garner  chickens  and  steal  sheep." 

"  Holy  smoke,"  grins  the  American,  "  here's  the 
fellow  for  whose  death  they  have  vendettaed  me, 
alive  and  talking!  " 


CHAPTER    XIII 


THE  storm  fairly  howls  about  them,  but  Marina  for 
gets  it  as  Tomasso  half  sobs :  "  Your  coming  here, 
dear  mistress,  shows  you  forgive  me  for  the  killing 
of  the  Englishman,  your  husband,  the  one  who  mur 
dered  Antonio  in  the  duel,"  and  the  flickering  light 
revealing  Barnes's  face,  he  exclaims :  "  The  Ameri 
can  who  saw  your  brother  slain.  Ah,  now  you  agree 
with  me  this  accursed  Anstruther's  death  was 
just." 

"  Thank  God,  you  didn't  murder  him ! "  cries  the 
girl.  "  Your  stiletto  entered  the  heart  of  Musso 
Danella,  who  deserved  death  for  his  lies." 

"  /  killed  poor  Musso  Danella?  "  stammers  the  old 
Corsican.  Then  he  mutters  as  if  he  can't  believe: 
"  No,  no,  I  heard  his  groan  as  I  struck  through  the 
curtains." 

"  'Twas  the  groan  of  Musso  Danella,"  answers 
Marina.  "  That  you  killed  the  right  man  proves  my 
husband  innocent.  'Twas  the  hand  of  God  directed 
you."  The  girl's  voice  is  very  reverent. 

"  Then  if  it  was  the  hand  of  God,  Danella's  death 
is  sure  proof  your  husband  killed  not  Antonio,"  says 

231 


232  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Tomasso  solemnly,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross ; 
but  again  breaks  forth :  "  No,  no — the  proofs  Musso 
gave  to  both  you  and  me  made  us  believe  this  An- 
struther,  your  spouse,  shot  your  brother.  The 
things  he  held  up  to  our  very  eyes " 

"  Were  the  property  of  another  English  officer — 
one  killed  in  action  on  a  British  warship  under  the 
Egyptian  guns  at  Alexandria!  Do  you  think  I'd 
live  in  the  arms  of  a  man  with  my  brother's  blood 
upon  him  ?  "  cries  the  young  wife  fervidly. 

"  No,  that  is  not  possible,  also,"  agrees  old 
Monaldi. 

"  But,"  interjects  Barnes,  "  while  you  jabber  here, 
your  darling  mistress  dies  of  cold." 

"  Oh,  my  heart  is  warm  enough  with  joy  at  seeing 
Tomasso  live  to  make  me  forget  the  icy  wind,"  and 
the  enthusiastic  girl,  careless  of  her  station,  kisses 
the  rugged  face  of  her  old  servitor. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  have  not  forgotten  supper,"  sug 
gests  the  common-sense  American,  and  half  drags 
Marina  into  the  cabin.  "  Eating  first  and  affection 
afterward." 

Here,  as  they  warm  themselves  before  the  fire, 
Tomasso  remarks :  "  I  have  little  to  offer  you,  dear 
mistress,  but  some  dried  sheep's  flesh." 

"  Pish !  hunger  is  nothing.  You  are  alive,  dear 
old  Tomasso,"  repeats  the  girl,  as  he  again  mumbles 
her  hand.  Still  the  young  lady's  eyes  seem  happier 


"GLORIOUS    BANDITS"  233 

when  Barnes,  opening  his  haversack,  throws  out  cans 
of  preserved  meats,  potted  chicken  and  tinned  bis 
cuits;  also  tea  and  coffee  and  tin  cups  and  plates. 
These  being  followed  by  a  box  of  cigars,  the  Ameri 
can  emits  a  snort  of  joy,  and  remarks:  "Little 
Lebceuf  is  a  genius." 

Immediately  all  together  they  go  to  work  to  make 
a  mountain  supper.  Tomasso  bringing  the  water 
from  the  melting  snow  outside  the  cabin,  and  Barnes 
brewing  the  tea  and  heating  the  soup,  while  Marina, 
her  sleeves  rolled  up  to  her  white,  dimpled  elbows, 
arranges  their  fare  with  woman's  tact. 

Soon  after,  as  they  eat,  Barnes  remarks :  "  This 
is  a  mighty  curious  coincidence.  Do  you  know,  old 
Tomasso,  that  Saliceti,  the  young  politician  here, 
the  one  who  is  to  marry  your  daughter,  Etheria,  has 
sworn  a  vendetta  against  me  for  putting  the  troops 
on  your  track  and  getting  you  shot  to  death?  " 

"  A  vendetta  against  you?  Well,  it  was  his  duty, 
seeing  he  is  to  marry  my  daughter,  had  your  sol 
diers  killed  me,"  returns  the  old  Corsican,  in  his 
simple  way. 

A  moment  after,  however,  he  chuckles  to  himself: 
"  Per  Dio,  that  was  what  Rochini  and  Romano 
wanted  me  to  do  to-day — I  was  to  kill  you." 

"  Those  awful  monsters,"  shudders  Marina. 

"What  makes  you  think  that,  MorfSildi?"  asks 
Barnes,  surprise  upon  his  face. 


234  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Well,  this  Rochini,  and  his  mate,  have  been  run 
out  of  I^otondo,  the  farmers  there  having  got  tired 
of  their  sheep  disappearing  too  rapidly,  and  have 
come  over  to  this  mountain.  To-day  these  two 
approached  me  some  four  hours  ago  and  said: 
'  Brother  bandit  out  of  a  job,  join  us.  A  messenger 
has  been  sent  ahead  and  we  are  going  down  to  help 
Saliceti  make  votes  for  himself  by  killing  the  Ameri 
cano  down  in  the  vale  toward  Guagno.'  ' 

"  Hum !  then  you  did  not  accept, "  remarks 
Barnes,  lighting  his  cigar. 

"  I  am  not  quite  bandit  enough  to  shoot  a  man  I 
have  never  heard  of  before,"  answers  old  Monaldi 
proudly,  "  so  I  said :  '  No.'  '  Ah,  but  he  will  have 
gold  with  him,'  cried  Rochini.  '  Foreigners  always 
have  gold,'  said  Romano,  and  the  two  went  on  their 
way.  They  are  down  the  valley  now." 

"  That  is  not  all  of  it,"  says  Barnes  earnestly. 
"  Your  loved  mistress — her  life  is  in  danger,  too." 

"  Not  by  those  or  any  other  men  while  I,  Tomasso, 
am  alive,"  answers  the  old  man  savagely. 

"  No,  but  by  Cipriano  Danella,  Musso's  brother, 
and  the  scar-eyed  young  man,  Musso's  nephew." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know  them  both.  They — they 
threaten  her?  "  The  old  Corsican  gazes  with  love 
and  reverence  upon  the  being  he  adores.  "  Threaten 
her — these  people?  "  he  exclaims  vindictively. 

"  Yes,  because  your  stiletto  killed  Musso,  they  say 


"GLORIOUS    BANDITS"  235 

she  plotted  with  you  for  his  murder,  so  as  to  save  her 
husband,"  remarks  Barnes,  puffing  his  cigar. 

"  What,  when  she  shrieked  to  me  not  to  strike 
through  the  curtains.  Ah,  but  I  have  something  to 
say  to  Musso's  relatives!  Where  are  they?  Down 
in  the  village  I  will  find  them.  For  myself  I  feared 
and  hid  from  the  gendarmes,  but  now,  be  not  afraid." 
He  dotingly  pats  Marina's  tresses  with  his  wrinkled 
hand.  "  And  my  friend,  Saliceti,  whom  I  once  voted 
for,  who  is  to  marry  my  Etheria — if  he  is  with 
them,  I  will  have  a  word  with  Saliceti,  and  should 
he  not  prove  pliable  Etheria  must  get  another  for 
husband.  Girls  should  not  marry  corpses,  and  Sali 
ceti  will  be  dead."  As  if  the  matter  is  ended,  old 
Monaldi  fills  a  battered  cherrywood  pipe  with  the 
strong,  bitter,  native  tobacco  of  the  island,  lights  it 
and  goes  to  puffing  contentedly. 

"  Neither  of  the  Danellas  is  in  Corsica,"  remarks 
Barnes.  "  The  danger  will  come  to  your  mistress 
when  she  returns  to  her  husband  on  the  French  main 
land.  But  Saliceti  has  abducted  my  wife  and 
brought  her  here — so  that  I,  following  him,  shall 
come  to  my  death  in  Bocognano." 

"  Pah,  nothing  will  come  to  your  wife  to-night," 
says  old  Monaldi.  "  Girls  picking  wild  strawberries 
were  talking  that  the  day  after  to-morrow  the  peo 
ple  vote.  They  have  a  meeting  this  evening  in 
Bocognano.  I  listened  from  behind  a  rock  and  heard 


236  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

them,  but  when  I  put  out  my  head  the  children 
screamed :  '  Rochini '  and  ran  frightened  from  me. 
I  was  so  anxious  to  get  word  to  my  daughter 
Etheria  that  she  should  bring  me  clothes  and 
food." 

But  Barnes  is  not  so  easy  about  his  captured  bride; 
he  steps  out  of  the  cabin  and  finds  the  wind  has 
died  away,  the  mist  has  cleared  with  the  rapidity 
usual  to  mountain  storms.  He  is  looking  down 
through  the  clear  night  air  on  the  lights  of  Boco- 
gnano,  gleaming  at  his  feet  in  the  valley  of  the 
Gravona  amid  the  chestnut  groves. 

He  steps  in  and  says  anxiously  to  Marina :  "  The 
evening  is  very  clear.  You  know  my  anguish — do 
you  think  you  have  strength  to  venture  down  the 
heights,  assisted  by  Tomasso  and  me,  and  enter  your 
own  village?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  am  refreshed.  Another  cup  of  tea 
and  I  will  go  with  you,"  cries  the  girl  so  eagerly 
that  Barnes  puts  grateful  eyes  upon  her,  for  he 
knows  it  is  her  spirit  more  than  her  strength  that 
produces  her  assent  to  further  journey. 

They  are  making  hurried  preparations  to  leave 
the  cabin.  Barnes  is  bending  over  the  fire,  brewing 
Marina's  tea — their  guns,  and  even  the  American's 
revolvers  are  lying  in  their  belt  on  the  pile  of  boughs 
near  the  entrance.  Tomasso  is  saying:  "Will  I  not 
astonish  the  men  who  swore  a  vendetta  against  you 


"GLORIOUS    BANDITS"  237 

for  my  death!  I  who  am  alive  and — and " 

when  suddenly  Tomasso  stops.  There  is  a  rattle  in 
his  throat  that  causes  Barnes  to  look  hurriedly  up. 
Marina  has  retreated  to  the  corner  of  the  cabin  and 
Monaldi's  eyes  are  full  of  horror. 

Just  across  the  fire  from  him  stand  two  dark 
mountaineers.  Rough,  undressed  sheepskins  cover 
their  brawny  shoulders ;  long  guns  are  in  their  hands 
and  stilettos  in  their  belts.  One  is  a  big,  powerful- 
looking  ruffian;  the  other  slighter,  but  his  brown 
limbs  lithe  and  sinewy.  The  eyes  of  both  are  shining 
malevolently  in  the  blaze. 

"  Corpo  di  diavolo,  this  is  a  rare  catch  you  have 
made,  hermit  bandit,  whose  name  we  do  not  know," 
chuckles  the  bigger  of  the  two  men ;  "  this  Ameri 
cano  whose  pockets  Saliceti  declared  were  lined  with 
gold,  he  whom  we  waited  for  and  missed  in  the  vale 
below." 

"  Ah,  you  are  Rochini  and  Romano,  I  believe, 
from  your  speech,  gentlemen,"  says  Barnes  quietly. 

"  Aye,  that  we  are.  And  who  is  this  woman  of 
the  beautiful  eyes?  Hand  thy  captives  over  to  us, 
hermit  bandit.  Divide  your  spoils  with  us  and  we 
will  save  you  the  trouble  of  cutting  the  man's 
throat,"  jeers  the  slighter  miscreant. 

"  As  for  the  woman,  the  fire  tells  me  she  is  very 
lovely  both  as  to  limbs  and  face,  and  I  have  a  better 
use  for  her,"  guffaws  the  bigger  man. 


238  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

And  never  was  Marina  more  beautiful.  She  steps 
forward,  her  lithe  limbs,  despite  her  strait,  bearing 
her  erect.  Her  eyes,  though  full  of  tears,  for  she 
is  thinking  of  Edwin,  are  falchion  eyes.  She  con 
fronts  the  ruffians  with  undaunted  mien,  and  says 
commandingly :  "  Fellows,  dare  to  lay  your  hands 
on  me  and  the  whole  of  Bocognano  will  hunt  you 
down.  The  Bellacoscia  will  destroy  you.  I  am  Ma 
rina  Paoli." 

"  Oh,  she  is  merry  with  us,  this  girl  who  runs  after 
foreign  gentlemen.  Now  we  will  show  her  that  Cor- 
sican  kisses  are  as  good  as  those  of  this  Americano." 

Brutally  they  draw  near  to  her.  As  the  girl  draws 
back  from  the  contaminating  clasp  of  the  monsters, 
Tomasso,  with  a  savage  cry,  and  uplifted  stiletto, 
stands  between. 

In  a  second  the  old  man  will  be  dead  under  their 
knives  and  the  brave  girl  their  prey.  Marina's  un 
daunted  eyes,  turning  in  appeal  to  the  American,  see 
with  astonishment  that  he  makes  no  move  to  aid  her, 
but  is  abjectly  squirming  toward  the  cabin  door. 
Suddenly  she  utters  a  gasp  of  despair  and  a  sigh  of 
contempt;  this  great  pistol  shot  is  running  timidly 
away,  flying  out  of  the  cabin,  though  as  he  passes 
the  pile  of  boughs  he  seizes  the  belt  holding  his  two 
revolvers. 

"  He  has  the  gold !    After  him !  "  cries  Rochini. 

"  We'll  knife  him  in   a  minute !  "  yells  Romano, 


"GLORIOUS    BANDITS"  239 

and  the  two,  cocking  their  guns,  fly  after  the  dastard 
American. 

But  as  they  reach  the  door,  the  moment  their  ath 
letic  forms  are  outlined  by  the  blaze  of  the  fire,  two 
quick,  sharp  pistol  reports  come  from  the  outside, 
and  Rochini  and  Romano,  without  even  a  cry,  fall 
to  the  earth,  inert  and  dead. 

The  smoke  of  Barnes's  revolvers  issues  from  them 
as  he  quietly  re-enters  and  says  apologetically :  "  I 
knew  I  wouldn't  have  time  to  grab  my  guns  and 
shoot  before  they'd  knife  me,  so  I  imitated  the  trick 
of  Jerry,  the  Denver  barkeeper,  and  ran  away  till  I 
could  get  my  weapons  ready." 

A  moment  later  he  says :  "  Come !  "  and  taking 
Marina  carefully  in  his  arms,  whispers :  "  Turn 
your  face  from  them,"  and  steps  over  the  dead  men 
lying  in  the  entrance  of  the  cabin. 

Behind  him,  Tomasso,  following,  carrying  the 
American's  rifle,  is  saying :  "  Oh,  you  will  be  wor 
shipped  in  this  commune  for  this.  So  many  poor 
men  have  been  butchered,  so  many  poor  women  have 
been  carried  away  to  the  mountains  by  these  dead 
devils." 

But  the  reports  have  drawn  others  to  the  spot. 
As  Barnes  steps  over  the  dead  men  lying  in  the 
entrance  of  the  cabin,  he  suddenly  says :  "  By 
Heaven,  here  are  more  of  them ! "  puts  Marina  down 
and  would  draw  his  revolvers  were  he  not  seized  by 


240  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

three  athletic  young  fellows  who  rise  silently  from 
the  shadows  about  them. 

A  clear,  commanding  voice  remarks :  "  Not  more 
of  Rochini  and  his  fellows.  You  have  saved  us  the 
trouble  of  their  killing.  We  are  the  Bellacoscia. 
Your  pistols,  stranger,  have  relieved  us  of  the  exe 
cution  of  these  ruffians  we  were  pursuing,  who  have 
brought  discredit  on  the  honoured  name  of  bandit." 

And  Tomasso  is  crying  "  Antonio  Bonelli,"  to  a 
man  of  noble  bearing,  who,  carbine  in  hand,  comes 
into  the  cabin  followed  by  eight  stalwart  young  men, 
all  armed  as  he  is. 

But  the  eight  stalwart  young  men  fear  the  super 
natural  and  stand  back,  their  eyes  gleaming,  and  one 
shudders :  "  'Tis  the  ghost  of  old  Monaldi,  killed  by 
De  Belloc's  troopers  two  weeks  ago."  For  a  moment 
they  would  retreat,  but  their  leader  laughs  at  them: 
"  'Tis  flesh  and  blood  that  is  kissing  my  hand." 

And  old  Tomasso  says :  "  You  know  how  well  the 
troopers  shoot.  Do  you  think  they'd  hit  a  man  at 
two  hundred  yards  hiding  behind  a  rock  in  the  gloom 
of  the  morning?  " 

To  this  young  Angoni,  the  nephew  of  his  leader, 
sneers :  "  I  know  how  well  the  soldiers  shoot.  They 
fired  at  me  twice  the  other  day,"  and  he  and  his  com 
rades  gather  round  Monaldi  and  slap  him  on  the 
back  and  cry :  "  Bravo,  old  Tomasso !  You're  one 
of  us  now !  " 


"GLORIOUS    BANDITS  "  241 

But  the  flashing-eyed  man  orders :  "  Stand  back, 
while  I  question  this  stranger  who  has  done  Boco- 
gnano  a  service  to-night." 

Marina  has  risen,  murmuring :  "  Antonio  Bo- 
nelli!" 

"  Gran  Dio!  Mademoiselle  Paoli,"  says  the  man, 
and  gallantly  sinks  upon  his  knee  and  kisses  devot 
edly  the  fair  hand  the  girl  extends  to  him.  After  a 
moment  he  continues  most  emphatically :  "  It  was 
with  sorrow  that  Corsica  heard  that  you  had  for 
gotten  the  oath  of  the  vendetta  in  the  arms  of  the 
English  officer  who  killed  your  brother." 

"  That  was  not  so,"  cries  Marina.  "  The  Eng 
lish  officer  who  shot  Antonio  fell  under  the  Egyptian 
guns  by  the  hand  of  God.  The  man  I  love  is  free  of 
any  blood  stain." 

"  Ah,  the  murderer  of  your  brother  fell  by  the 
hand  of  God.  It  is  well.  And  this  cavalier,  is  he 
your  husband?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  he  is  an  American  against  whom  foul 
wrong  has  been  done  by  Saliceti,"  and  introducing 
Barnes  she  says :  "  Tell  this  great  bandit  your  story 
and  he  will  give  you  justice.  He  has  done  so  often 
in  Bocognano." 

Briefly  the  American  relates  the  kidnapping  of  his 
wife,  and  listening  to  this,  the  Corsican  says :  "  No 
outrage  against  woman  was  ever  perpetrated  in  Bo 
cognano  without  my  avenging  her,  and  this  crime 


242  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

against  a  strange  lady — ah,  the  hospitality  of  the 
island  forbids  it.  So  young  Saliceti  thinks  by  pro 
claiming  a  vendetta  against  you  for  the  death  of  a 
man  who  lives,  that  he  will  gain  votes  in  our  com 
mune.  Basta,  I  have  something  to  say  as  to  the 
elections  down  there.  They  are  holding  a  meeting 
in  the  municipal  to-night.  Descend  with  me  to  the 
village,  Americano,  who  has  done  such  a  great  serv 
ice  in  the  slaying  of  these  miscreants,  who  have  dis 
honoured  our  noble  calling,  and  we,  the  Bellacoscia, 
will  give  your  bride  back  to  you  and  right  your 
wrong." 

"  Dio  mio,"  cries  Marina  excitedly.  "  Now  that 
our  glorious  bandits  love  you,  Burton,  your  wrongs 
will  be  righted !  " 

"  This  is  the  first  place  in  which  I  ever  liked  ban 
dits,"  mutters  Barnes  enthusiastically. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

BEFORE  A   CORSICAN   ELECTION 

ESCORTED  by  the  mountaineers,  two  stalwart  young 
men  carrying  Mademoiselle  Paoli  reverently  down 
the  dizzy  path,  they  skirt  the  dread  precipices  of 
Del  Oro  and  passing  the  vinelands  and  the  clearings, 
come  into  the  main  road  leading  from  Corte,  then 
descending  the  hill  are  in  the  chestnut  groves  of  Bo- 
cognano. 

At  a  signal  from  their  chief,  the  party  pauses  and 
some  of  the  young  men  go  forward  to  see  no  gen 
darmes  are  in  the  place. 

Then  their  leader,  who  has  been  conversing  with 
Barnes,  apologising  for  Saliceti's  outrage  on  Cor- 
sican  hospitality,  turns  to  Marina  and  says :  "  Have 
no  fear,  Signora ;  your  English  sister  shall  be  re 
turned  to  this  gentleman,  but "  he  lays  his 

hand  on  Barnes's  shoulder — "  use  not  the  weapons  I 
see  at  your  belt.  Thy  quarrel  shall  be  my  quarrel. 
No  foreigner  shall  ever  be  compelled  to  protect  a 
woman  while  I,  Antonio  Bonelli,  dominate  Boco- 
gnano." 

"  Were   it   not   meeting  night,   everything  would 

243 


MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

be  silent  save  the  dogs  and  pigs,"  chuckles  Tomasso. 
"  Now  they'll  have  light  enough  to  see  I  am  alive." 

"  Cospetto,  they  are  making  a  fete  for  you,  Mon- 
aldi,"  laughs  one  of  the  young  men,  for  lanterns  are 
dangling  from  the  overhanging  boughs  of  the  main 
street  of  the  little  village ;  some  of  the  houses  are 
illuminated,  and  round  the  communal  building  and 
the  wine  shops  are  gathered  many  men. 

The  young  Bellacoscia  soon  return  and  report  that 
no  gendarmes  are  in  sight. 

"  Silence !  "  commands  the  chief.  "  I'll  do  the 
talking  for  all." 

"  Just  keep  me  away  from  Saliceti,  so  I  won't 
kill  him,"  remarks  Barnes,  and  the  little  party  tramp 
through  the  lantern-lighted  streets,  and  coming  to 
the  door  of  the  municipal  building,  the  loungers  who 
are  smoking  their  pipes  make  way  for  them,  doffing 
their  hats  and  saying  with  great  reverence :  "  The 
Bellacoscia !  " 

Near  the  entrance  are  two  illuminated  placards, 
one  reading :  "  Vote  for  Saliceti,  who  upholds  old 
Corsica !  "  The  other:  "  Cast  your  ballots  for  Ber 
nardo,  the  man  who  kills !  " 

Surrounded  by  the  young  men,  Tomasso  in  the 
dim  light  is  not  noticed,  and  Marina  has  drawn  her 
mandile  close  about  her  face. 

The  party  enter  the  low  hall  of  the  municipal, 
which  is  lighted  by  lamps  and  decorated  by  myrtles 


A    CORSICAN    ELECTION  245 

and  cyclamen  flowers.  It  is  well  filled  by  a  crowd  of 
farmers,  peasants,  wool  growers  and  shepherds ;  also 
a  few  of  the  gentry  of  the  neighbourhood,  both  cava 
liers  and  ladies  who  wish  to  hear  the  fiery  eloquence 
of  Saliceti,  are  in  the  gallery.  These  are  now  being 
fervidly  addressed  by  young  Bernardo  himself. 

Catching  sight  of  the  commanding  figure  of  the 
great  bandit,  the  adroit  politician  bursts  out  raptur 
ously  :  "  Ah,  thanks,  grand  Antonio  Bonelli,  for 
thy  presence  and  countenance.  You  have  come  to 
say  to  me,  '  Bernardo,  you  are  a  true  Corsican ;  in 
you  is  upheld  the  honoured  custom  of  the  vendetta  to 
the  twentieth  generation.'  So  will  all  here  say  when 
to-morrow  I  shall  have  the  body  of  the  one  who  came 
to  Marina's  nuptials  and  left  death  behind  him,  this 
American  who  brought  with  him  soldiers  to  shoot 
down  poor  old  Tomasso  Monaldi.  For  it,  I,  loving 
his  daughter  Etheria,  have  sworn  the  blood  feud; 
and  I  remember  my  words.  I  am  a  Corsican  with  a 
dagger !  " 

But  the  savage  shouts  that  greet  this  are  stilled 
by  old  Tomasso,  who  pushes  through  the  crowd  and 
stands  facing  the  platform,  his  eyes  flashing,  and 
says :  "  I,  Tomasso  Monaldi,  tell  you  there  is  no 
cause  of  a  vendetta  for  me,  because  I  am  alive!  " 

At  his  words  shuddering  cries  of  "  Ghost ! " 
"  Spirit !  "  "  Spectre !  "  rise  amid  the  tobacco  smoke 
of  the  meeting,  and  some  would  slip  from  the  door 


246  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

did  not  Antonio  Bonelli  command :  "  Let  all  re 
main  !  "  as  three  of  his  stalwart  descendants  bar  the 
entrance. 

"  Diavolo,  Monaldi's  spirit  comes  to  bless  my  ven 
detta  !  "  shouts  Saliceti,  though  his  eyes  are  wild  and 
his  voice  almost  incoherent,  and  his  knees  tremble 
slightly,  as  do  those  of  many  others,  for  mediaeval 
superstitions  still  exist  in  Corsica,  among  them  that 
of  ghosts,  spirits  and  goblins. 

But  there  is  a  sudden  cry :  "  Father !  "  from  a 
girl  in  black  mandile  and  deep  mourning  who  has 
been  sitting  with  some  other  women  in  the  retirement 
of  a  corner  of  the  hall,  listening  to  her  lover's  fero 
cious  eloquence,  and  Etheria,  with  streaming  eyes,  is 
in  Monaldi's  arms. 

"  Aye,  'tis  flesh  and  blood  you're  fondling,  girl," 
laughs  the  great  bandit,  and  striding  to  the  platform 
he  says  in  ringing  tones :  "  But  this  is  not  all ! " 
for  now  the  crowd  are  gathered  about  Tomasso  and 
are  greeting  him  with  words  of  sympathy  because 
for  the  mere  killing  of  a  man,  he  had  been  forced  to 
take  to  the  macchia  and  become  a  bandit. 

"  Attention,  all !  "  commands  Antonio.  "  Listen 
to  my  words.  If  not,  my  followers  shall  give  sharper 
notice  to  you ! "  And  the  crowd  wisely  becomes 
still. 

"  In  pursuit  of  your  suffrages,  Saliceti  has  put  a 
base  outrage  on  our  hospitality,"  continues  the  ban- 


A    CORSICAN   ELECTION  247 

dit  chief  in  solemn  tones.  "  He  has  abducted  a 
young  English  lady  and  brought  her  to  Bocognano 
to  lure  to  death  her  husband,  an  American  Signore 
who  shoots  well  enough  to  be  a  bandit  and  who  this 
night,  with  his  own  weapons,  has  slain  Rochini  and 
Romano,  whose  murders  have  made  you  all  tremble 
as  you  went  along  mountain  paths  and  whose  out 
rages  have  caused  our  maids  to  have  nightmares." 

"Rochini  and  Romano  dead?  Impossible!"  cries 
a'  shepherd,  as  a  sigh  of  relief  and  then  a  yell  of 
gratitude  rises  from  the  concourse. 

"  I  saw  him  shoot  the  ruffians  to  death  upon  Del 
Oro,  I,  Antonio  Bonelli.  Don't  dare  say  no !  "  This 
last  is  addressed  to  Saliceti,  who,  having  recovered 
from  his  astonishment,  is  about  to  open  his  mouth. 

"  Ah,  you  admit  it.  Maladetta,  where  is  the  Eng 
lish  lady?" 

And  Saliceti,  being  admonished  to  answer  by  a 
quick  prick  of  the  stiletto  from  a  Bellacoscia  youth 
who  has  stepped  behind  him,  the  young  politician 
falters  forth :  "  No  harm  has  come  to  her.  She  is 
with  my  mother." 

On  this  Barnes  has  looked  from  a  distance,  wisely 
reflecting  that  his  battle  is  being  fought  for  him, 
but  with  difficulty  restraining  his  hands  from  putting 
a  pistol  ball  through  Saliceti.  He  now  cries : 

"  Then,  for  God's  sake,  take  me  to  her  quick !  " 

This  brings  upon  him  the  attention  of  the  crowd. 


248  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Learning  that  it  is  he  who  has  relieved  them  of  the 
terror  of  Rochini,  the  men  cry  "  Viva!  "  and  embrace 
him,  and  a  little  girl  steals  up  to  him  and  timidly 
kisses  his  hand. 

"  Your  lady  shall  receive  you  soon,  Signore 
Barnes,"  remarks  Bonelli.  "  I  would  like  you  to  see 
Corsican  justice,"  and  at  some  words  from  him  two 
or  three  of  the  young  men  having  left  the  hall  on 
his  errand,  the  hawk-eyed  bandit  continues :  "  Be 
sides,  I  fear  common  report  has  done  wrong  to  the 
lady  of  our  town.  Marina,  child,  step  here  and 
make  your  friends  love  you  again." 

To  this  time,  she  having  stood  in  the  shadows  of 
the  rear  and  the  lamplight  of  the  room  being  very 
dim,  in  their  excitement  the  concourse  had  not  noticed 
her;  but  as  Marina  steps  forward,  some  men  turn 
away,  a  woman  whispers :  "  "Tis  a  pity  the  blood  of 
Pasquale  Paoli  flows  in  her,"  and  a  young  cavalier 
remarks :  "  We  honoured  your  wedding,  Madame 
Anstruther,  but  then  we  did  not  know  that  you  had 
forgotten  your  oath  of  the  vendetta  and  were  mating 
with  the  slayer  of  your  brother." 

"  Gaspardo!  "  cries  Marina,  with  a  gasp  of 
horror,  "  my  childhood's  friend,  how  dare  you  say 
this  lie?  "  and  staggering  onto  the  platform,  and 
seeing  condemnation,  horror  and  disgust  in  the  faces 
she  had  known  from  childhood,  the  girl  simply  but 
with  great  nobility  of  manner,  tells  them  how  Musso 


A    CORSICAN    ELECTION 

Danella,  inspired  by  devilish  jealousy,  had  turned 
the  articles  in  a  dead  man's  trunk  into  evidence  that 
the  English  officer  whom  she  had  nursed  to  life 
in  the  Egyptian  hospitals  and  whom  she  loved  with 
her  whole  heart,  was  the  principal  in  the  duel  at 
Ajaccio,  the  man  who  had  slain  her  brother.  The 
tears  are  coursing  down  her  cheeks,  her  mobile  feat 
ures  quivering,  but  her  eyes  are  flashing  as  she  cries : 
"  Know  you  Marina  Paoli  so  little  as  not  to  know 
that  the  one  thing  that  could  stay  the  vendetta  in 
her  was  the  death  of  the  man  against  whom  she  had 
taken  its  solemn  oath.  But  he  was  killed  by  the 
Egyptians  beneath  the  guns  of  Alexandria !  What 
else  would  take  him  from  my  vengeance  save  the 
hand  of  God?  Am  I  not  Corsican  as  well  as  you? 
Then  why  not  wish  me  joy  of  my  wedding  a  noble 
gentleman  who  will  come  among  you  and  be  one  of 
you! 

"  Misericorde!  "  she  sighs,  "  must  a  daughter  of 
Paoli's  beg  your  love — and  not  receive  it?  "  Her 
white  arms  are  imploring. 

The  beauty  of  the  suppliant,  with  the  blood  of 
the  great  Corsican  patriot  flowing  in  her  veins, 
touches  their  passionate  hearts.  A  lady  from  the 
little  balcony  seizing  some  of  the  cyclamen  decora 
tions,  throws  the  flowers  all  over  her,  and  her  com 
patriots,  whose  faces  had  been  cold  to  her,  fly  around, 
embrace  her  and  beg  her  to  forgive  them. 


250  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  But  there  is  one  I  will  not  forgive,"  cries  the 
girl  sternly ;  "  this  Saliceti,  Bernardo,  who  had 
known  me  in  my  youth,  who  spread  these  reports 
all  over  the  mountains  that  I  have  disgraced  my 
very  womanhood  in  giving  myself  to  my  brother's 
murderer." 

"  A  bas  Saliceti!  "  yells  a  sheep  farmer  from  the 
valley. 

"  Demonios,  his  lies  have  dishonoured  our  race!" 
growls  a  goatherd  from  the  slopes  of  La  Pintica. 

"  Leave  him  to  us,"  says  Bonelli  calmly ;  his  hawk's 
eyes  are  fixed  unpleasantly  on  the  candidate,  who 
with  muttered  anathemas  is  edging  from  the  plat 
form. 

With  this,  Corsica's  favourite  bandit  commands 
sternly :  "  Men  of  Bocognano,  no  one  of  you  will 
cast  your  ballot  at  the  polls  for  this  politician  who 
has  disgraced  our  village.  Otherwise  you  will  hear 
from  me.  You  remember  how  right  there  by  his 
ballot  box  I  bound  in  his  official  chair  our  rascal 
mayor  who  had  issued  marked  ballots,  and  then  when 
you  came  in  to  deposit  them  in  the  official  voting  urn, 
pricked  by  my  stiletto,  Signore  Mayor  was  compelled 
to  implore  you  all  to  tear  up  the  marked  ballots  and 
vote  against  him.  You  will  vote  this  time  for  Sig 
nore  Ambrose  Lucitano,  the  cigarette-smoking  states 
man  from  Ajaccio,  who  begs  your  suffrages.  He 
may  be  a  greater  fool,  but  he  is  not  so  great  a 


A    CORSICAN   ELECTION  251 

rascal  as  our  fellow  townsman !  Don't  you  even  dare 
vote  for  yourself !  "  he  cries,  as  the  abashed  Sali- 
ceti  flies  from  the  room  pursued  by  jeers  and  exe 
crations  and  even  the  taunts  of  his  own  sweetheart, 
who  is  still  clasped  in  old  Tomasso's  arms. 

"  Now,  reparation  to  you,  Signore  Barnes,  the 
only  one  we  can  make.  We  will  bear  you  in  honour 
to  Marina's  home,  where  your  bride  now  awaits  you. 
Your  wedding  fete  was  postponed  in  Nice,  I  under 
stand,"  the  grim  man  smiles  slightly.  "  We  will  give 
you  in  Bocognano  a  nuptial  procession  to  a  bride 
whose  lips  are  as  unsullied  as  when  she  made  vows 
to  you." 

So,  attended  by  the  whole  of  the  Bellacoscia  and 
many  girls,  who  have  pulled  down  the  floral  orna 
ments  of  the  communal  room,  waving  the  flowers 
about  him,  and  young  men  shooting  off  their  guns 
in  his  honour,  Barnes,  with  Marina  on  his  arm,  is 
escorted  beneath  the  lantern-lighted  chestnut  trees 
to  the  old  mansion  of  the  Paolis.  As  they  pass  along 
the  main  street  a  girl  comes  running  from  the  tele 
graph  office  and  places  an  envelope  in  Marina's 
hand.  After  glancing  at  it,  a  wild  elation  is  in  the 
young  wife's  face.  She  whispers  some  hurried  direc 
tions  to  old  Tomasso,  and  tripping  to  Barnes's  side 
her  step  is  as  buoyant  as  his. 

The  American,  walking  very  fast  and  thinking 
of  Enid,  scarce  notices  it. 


252  MR.    BARNES,   AMERICAN 

They  are  soon  at  the  doors  of  the  country  house, 
which  are  being  thrown  open  by  some  of  Marina's 
old  servants.  The  great  bandit  bows  and  says  laugh 
ingly: 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  a  hurry,  Signore.  Your 
meeting  with  your  abducted  bride  should  be  a  pri 
vate  one.  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  eagerness." 
Barnes  has  already  turned  to  the  house.  "  My 
young  men  who  conducted  your  lady  from  Saliceti's 
tell  me  she  is  of  most  marvellous  beauty,  though 
somewhat  overcome  by  fatigue  and  anxiety  for  you 
and  bashfulness.  We  take  our  leave,  deadly  pistol 
shot,  but  will  watch  over  you  and  your  spouse  to  see 
that  no  harm  comes  to  you." 

Then,  it  being  whispered  that  the  enraged  Sali- 
ceti  has  notified  the  gendarmes  by  telegraph  that 
the  Bellacoscia  have  come  down  from  the  mountain, 
the  illustrious  bandit  and  his  followers  silently  dis 
appear  in  the  shadows  of  the  night. 

During  these  words  Mrs.  Anstruther  has  hurriedly 
gone  into  her  house.  Barnes  now,  with  the  eager 
ness  of  happy  love  upon  his  face,  runs  up  onto  the 
verandah  and  steps  into  the  hallway. 

Here  he  is  met  by  Marina.  "  Don't  be  too  impa 
tient,"  she  observes,  smiling  slightly.  "  I  haven't 
seen  your  wife,  but  she  is  upstairs  in  her  chamber, 
the  great  front  room  on  the  second  floor.  Though 
perfectly  well,  my  servants  say,  she  is  worn  out  by 


A    CORSICAN   ELECTION  253 

the  constant  excitement  and  anxiety  of  the  last 
twenty-four  hours." 

"  Yes,  I  can  understand  that.  The  front  room 
on  the  second  floor,  you  said/'  whispers  Burton,  and 
turns  to  spring  up  the  great  oaken  stairway  to  the 
upper  story. 

"  You  are  in  a  great  hurry,"  says  Marina,  laying 
a  light  hand  upon  his  arm.  "  You  will  hardly  be 
coming  down  for  some  little  time  and  in  two  minutes 
I  shall  be  on  my  way  to  Bastia,  so  I  will  have  to  bid 
you  good-by  now." 

"  To  Bastia?  "  queries  Barnes,  turning  to  lier,  as 
tonishment  in  his  face. 

"  Yes,  I  shall  see  my  husband  to-morrow  morn 
ing,"  she  remarks,  in  joyous  excitement.  "  Here  is 
a  telegram  from  Edwin  telling  me  he  will  be  in  Bastia 
by  noon.  I  must  meet  him  there.  Everything  in 
the  house  is  yours,  dear  Burton.  I  know  you  will 
be  as  happy  here  with  your  bride,  as  I  shall  be  with 
my  husband.  Ah,  Tomasso  is  already  at  the  door." 

For  at  this  moment  there  is  a  noise  of  wheels  and 
hoofs  upon  the  avenue. 

"  Better  wait  for  the  diligence  to-morrow,"  dis 
sents  Barnes. 

"  And  keep  Edwin  waiting  for  my  kisses  ?  No, 
no,  Tomasso  shall  drive  me  toward  Bastia  through 
the  night.  Besides,  going  by  the  diligence,  at  the 
post-stations  there  will  be  gendarmes,  and  my  foster 


254  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

father  is  still  a  fugitive.  It  will  be  best  that  Edwin 
and  I  take  him  out  of  Corsica  entirely.  I  have  given 
orders  to  my  servants — make  this  place  your  home 
as  long  as  you  like."  She  has  already  stepped  out 
upon  the  porch. 

"  You  had  better  see  Enid  first,"  remarks  Burton, 
following  her. 

"  No,  I  think  not.  Your  interview  should  be 
before  mine  and  I  haven't  time.  The  drive  to  Bastia 
is  so  long."  The  eager  lady  has  already  gone  down 
a  step  or  two. 

"  You  will  be  too  fatigued,"  almost  entreats  the 
American,  though  the  thought  of  being  left  entirely 
alone  with  his  bride  for  the  first  days  of  his  honey 
moon  causes  his  dissent  to  be  rather  languid. 

"  No,  no,  the  journey  to  meet  my  husband,  know 
ing  that  I  can  tell  him  that  Bocognano  still  loves 
me  and  that  there  is  no  hatred  for  him  in  the  hearts 
of  my  people  and  my  kindred,  will  be  a  pleasant  one. 
'Tis  a  happy  night,  Mr.  Barnes.  Give  this  kiss  to 
dear  Enid."  In  her  romantic,  excited  way,  the 
charming  young  lady  kisses  her  new  brother-in-law 
and  runs  down  to  her  country  carriage  driven  by 
Tomasso  and  pulled  by  a  couple  of  black,  wiry, 
Arab-limbed  native  horses. 

The  carriage  has  been  filled  full  of  the  sweet- 
scented  cyclamen  flowers  by  the  peasant  girls.  The 
branches  of  these  thrown  upon  her  at  the  political 


A    CORSICAN   ELECTION  255 

meeting  Marina  also  carries  in  her  hand.  "  I  shall 
show  the  flowers  to  Edwin  to  prove  that  my  village 
forgives  him,"  she  whispers  proudly  as  Barnes  hur 
riedly  puts  her  into  the  vehicle.  "  May  you  be 
happy  as  I  am,"  she  calls  to  him,  and  the  young  Cor- 
sican  wife  is  driven  rapidly  down  the  great  avenue 
of  chestnut  trees,  Tomasso  being  apparently  also, 
eager  to  leave  the  gendarmes  that  have  hunted  him 
over  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER    XV 

A   LITTLE    SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES 

SCARCE  waiting  for  this,  the  American  springs  up 
the  steps  into  the  house  again,  and  rapidly  ascending 
the  stairway  to  the  second  floor,  sees  a  very  faint 
gleam  of  light  shining  under  the  doorway  of  the 
great  guest  chamber  in  the  front  of  the  old  Corsican 
mansion. 

He  knocks  almost  reverently,  and  a  faint  sweet 
voice  answers  timidly :  "  Come  in." 

His  heart  lighted  by  hope  and  love,  his  whole 
form  trembling  with  anxiety  to  take  his  bride  within 
his  arms,  the  thought  that  she  is  his  and  safe  making 
his  flashing  eyes  very  tender,  the  eager  bridegroom 
opens  the  door. 

Reclining  on  a  lounge  in  a  white  robe  whose  undu 
lations  outline  the  exquisite  figure,  her  head  bash 
fully  turned  from  him,  the  long,  beautiful,  almost 
dishevelled  hair  streaming  over  her  shining  shoulders, 
is  his  rescued  bride. 

She  is  in  a  nook  of  the  big  room  well  from  the 
faint  candle  light. 

To  her  he  steps  reverently  and  whispers :     "  My 

256 


A   SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES         257 

poor  darling;  you  are  overcome  with  the  terrible 
fatigues,  miseries  and  anxieties  of  this  wretched  day, 
that  has  now  become  a  happy  evening." 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  the  love  of  his 
heart  coming  in  him,  he  passes  an  arm  about  her 
slender  waist  and  kisses  her  passionately.  Her  lips 
respond  as  sweetly  and  clingingly  as  ever  did  those 
of  a  young  bride. 

But  even  in  the  midst  of  the  kiss,  Barnes  starts 
back  with  a  sharp,  amazed  cry  of  almost  horror: 
"  My  God,  Sally  Blackwood!  " 

And  the  lady  turning  to  him  so  that  the  candle 
light  shines  upon  her  radiant  features  that  are  al 
most  laughing,  says  archly :  "  Yes,  I'm  all  here,  La 
Belle  Blackwood.  It  is  a  little  surprise,  is  it  not, 
my  ardent  bridegroom,  Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York?  " 

"  My  Heaven,  how  did  you  come  here?  "  Bur 
ton's  voice  is  hoarse  with  amazement. 

"How?  In  Cipriano's  swift  yacht  and  afterward 
on  a  Corsican  pony." 

"  And  why  ?  "  An  awful  anxiety  has  crept  into 
his  voice. 

"  Why?    To  save  your  life !  " 

"  To  save  my  life?  "     Burton's  tone  is  incredulous. 

"  Yes.  I  guessed  from  Cipriano  that  they  were 
luring  you  to  Corsica  for  your  death.  I  came  here 
to  warn  you.  Besides,  I  said  I'd  have  one  kiss  from 
you,  that  farewell  kiss  you  wouldn't  give  me  the 


258  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

other  evening  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Mediterranee.  You 
should  have  been  kinder  to  me  for  old  times'  sake, 
Burton,  and  not  quite  forced  me  to  hate  you  or — 
love  you — I  don't  know  which." 

"  And  Mr.  Ruggles  ?  "  remarks  Barnes,  still  as 
tounded. 

"  Oh,  Ruggles  came  up  and  quarrelled  with  me ; 
got  jealous  of  you  or  Cipriano,  I  don't  know  which. 
Besides,  I  wanted  to  send  him  back  to  his  wife.  I 
like  to  do  some  good  things,  so  I  gave  him  his  conge. 
I  was  tired  of  Dan.  Then  bizarre  Cipriano,  he  is  so 
funny — he  said  to  me :  '  Ma  chere,  you  want  to  even 
yourself  with  Barnes  of  New  York?'  I  had  told 
him  you  were  such  a  gallant  knight  you  wouldn't 
even  kiss  an  old  sweetheart  because  you  were  going 
to  be  married  to  a  pretty-faced,  fair-haired,  blue- 
eyed  English  ingenue,  and  so,  at  Cip's  suggestion,  I 
came  over  to  Corsica  by  Cipriano's  fast  yacht  yes 
terday.  He  is  very  rich,  Cip  is,  I  am  told.  That 
doesn't  make  me  think  any  the  worse  of  him." 

"  But  where  is  Enid  and  by  what  devil's  chance 
did  you  take  my  bride's  place?"  asks  Barnes;  then 
breaks  out :  "  Ah,  it  is  impossible !  "  And  mutters 
almost  tremblingly :  "  Her  letter  on  the  yacht." 

"  Oh,  the  Corsicans — they  wanted  you  to  follow 
them.  They  expected  that.  They  didn't  intend  for 
you  to  get  your  bride,  at  all  events  not  until  you 
had  given  them  several  chances  to  kill  you.  So  I  was 


A    SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES        259 

on  the  shore  at  Sagone  waiting  for  them  when  Sali- 
ceti  arrived  per  schedule  on  the  Seagull.  I  saw  them 
from  a  distance.  They  brought  your  bride  off  the 
yacht  all  right.  Great  Scott,  she  has  a  fine  nerve, 
that  young  lady  of  yours.  Haughty  as  a  captured 
goddess." 

"  By  the  Eternal,  have  they  killed  her?  "  Barnes 
is  white  to  the  lips. 

"  Oh,  not  yet  anyway.  Diable,  how  you  must  love 
her.  It  is  the  first  time  I've  ever  seen  you  lose  your 
sang-froid,  and  now  cool-headed  Mr.  Barnes  is  trem 
bling. 

"  Saliceti,  with  two  friends,  hurried  her  on  a  long 
way  ahead  of  me  through  the  mountains.  Some 
dark-eyed  gentleman  escorting  me  gave  you  a  dis 
tant  chance  to  see  us.  You  were  never  on  the  same 
road  as  your  wife  after  you  left  Vico — you  were  pur 
suing  me!  " 

"My  God!" 

"  It  was  such  an  exciting  affair,"  she  half  laughs ; 
"  something  so  out  of  the  ordinary,  an  adventure  so 
bizarre  that  I  liked  to  do  it.  Word  was  brought 
you  were  in  pursuit  up  the  mountain  path.  I  knew 
they  wanted  to  ambush  you.  So  I  told  a  shepherd  to 
give  you  warning  at  the  inn  of  Guagno.  I  hope  you 
got  it.  I  knew  your  divine  pistol  shooting  and  said 
to  myself :  '  Ma  foi,  with  American  luck  and  Ameri 
can  pluck,  he's  sure  to  have  the  best  of  it.  Then 


260  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Burton  will  pursue,  thinking  me  his  bride,  and  if  his 
wife  gets  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  Corsican  gentry, 
for  her  to  read  how  her  husband  of  ten  minutes 
•chased  day  and  night  and  rescued  La  Belle  Black- 
wood  in  the  Corsican  mountains,  will  be  a  pill  not 
sugar-coated  for  the  immaculate  Enid.  Divorces 
have  been  brought  about  by  less  than  this ! '  Oho, 
swearing !  'Tis  not  polite  in  a  lady's  presence."  She 
gazes  roguishly  about  the  old-fashioned,  dimly 
lighted  chamber,  whose  faint  candle  flames  seem  to 
•etherealise  her  exquisite  yet  piquant  loveliness  of 
face  and  form  that  had  made  her  the  rage  among  the 
men  of  Paris,  the  envy  of  its  women. 

"Devil!" 

"  No,  not  devil.  Don't  call  me  that,"  she  implores 
almost  wildly.  "  I  am  only  La  Belle  Blackwood — 
as  God  made  me — and — men,  too." 

"Where  did  they  take  my  wife? 

"  That  I  shall  not  tell  you — at  least,  not  without 
a  bribe.  Shall  I  have  a  farewell  kiss  for  the  informa 
tion?" 

"Never!" 

"  Oh,  Burton,  don't  kill  me ! "  she  gasps,  for 
Barnes's  hand,  in  his  agony  and  rage,  is  nearly  on 
her  white  throat. 

"  Pish,  you  are  not  worth  it." 

Then  if  ever  the  shortcomings  of  youth  come  home 
to  a  man  of  the  world,  these  do  to  Barnes,  as  the 


A    SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES        261 

woman  almost  hysterically  lashes  him  with  the  tor 
ture  of  recollection.  "  No,  but  I  am  worth  a  kiss ; 
at  least,  you  used  to  think  so,"  she  whispers  sympa 
thetically.  "  Don't  you  remember  the  time  when 
you  were  all  in  all  to  me.  Think  of  that!  Think 
how,  but  a  little  over  three  weeks  ago,  you  practi 
cally  drove  me  from  the  hotel  at  Monte  Carlo  so  that 
I  could  not  sully  the  innocent  lips  of  Miss  Enid  An- 
struther  with  mine.  Think  when  I  sent  for  you  to 
warn  you  to  save  your  life  in  Nice  only  two  nights 
since,  how  when  I  begged,  '  Just  a  farewell  kiss,  Bur 
ton/  you  turned  away  and  said  your  immaculate 
fiancee  wouldn't  like  it;  that  you  had  determined  to 
do  nothing  that  would  give  her  pain.  Weren't  you 
giving  me  pain?  Don't  you  think  /  felt  it?  Don't 
you  imagine  you  owe  some  reparation  to  me  for  the 
days  when  you  were  a  boy  in  Paris,  and  I  steered  you 
through  the  meshes  of  the  gay  French  capital  and 
kept  you  harmless  from  all  other  women — because  I 
loved  you?  " 

To  this  Barnes  dares  not  reply;  he  remembers. 

"  Ah,  you  despise  me  too  much  to  answer,"  she 
sobs.  Then  she  suddenly  cries :  "  But  I  forgive 
even  that !  "  for  now  into  La  Belle  Blackwood  has 
come  the  reckless  spirit  that  makes  her  more  dan 
gerous  than  even  her  beauty — that  desire  to  have 
what  she  must  not — to  enjoy  the  fruit  that  is  forbid 
den.  "  You  men  of  the  world  ape  the  saint  for  a 


262  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

little  time  when  you  become  husbands  of  beautiful 
innocence,  but  it  never  lasts,"  she  pleads.  "  You  will 
sow  your  wild  oats  again  after  a  little  time.  Why 
not  sow  a  second  crop  now.  For  an  hour  or  two 
imagine  you  are  as  you  were  the  first  time  I  met  you 
— that  petite  souper  at  the  Cafe  des  Anglais — when 
your  boy's  eyes  first  looked  into  mine."  Her  white 
arms  that  princes  have  longed  for  in  vain  close 
around  him ;  she  clings  to  him,  sighing :  "  Then 
afterward  I'll  tell  you  how  to  find  her." 

Uncompromisingly  he  tears  himself  from  her  and 
commands :  "  Tell  me  where  I  will  find  her  now ;  tell 
me  so  that  I  can  go  back  to  her  and  dare  to  kiss  my 
wife's  lips,  knowing  that  I  am  true  to  her.  Think 
— think  what  you  once  were  when  your  father  and 
mother  in  Ohio  loved  you  and  believed  in  their  little 
girl.  By  Heaven,  I  know  there  is  good  in  you,  Sally 
— only  let  it  come  out,  just  this  time,"  he  entreats. 
"  Just  tell  me  where  I  can  find  my  darling,  so  that  I 
can  rescue  her  in  time,  for  you  know  these  are  vil 
lains  who  have  stolen  her  from  me." 

A  being  of  impulse,  La  Belle  Blackwood  wrings 
her  hands,  her  head  droops  and  she  sobs :  "  Then, 
Burton,  I'll  forgive  you  and  tell  you.  There  is  a 
little  good  in  me — I'll  tell  you  all  I  know  of  your 
bride,  which  is  very  little.  I  think  the  road  they 
took  her  was  north  of  the  path  that  we  followed. 
But  where  Enid  is,  I  know  not." 


A    SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES 

"  Then  Saliceti !    I'll  tear  it  from  him." 

"  I  hardly  think  he  can  tell  you.  His  followers 
were  strangely  frightened  and  embarrassed  when  the 
Bellacoscia  young  men  demanded  your  bride  from 
them,  and  as  an  evasion,  substituted  me."  Then, 
noting  the  fearful  look  on  Barnes's  face,  she  cries: 
"  Don't  waste  your  time  here ;  ask  the  man  who 
knows." 

"Ah!" 

"  Cipriano  Danella !  The  head  of  this  affair  didn't 
want  you  to  find  her — not  until  they  killed  you,  if 
it  were  possible.  Oh,  this  Corsican  Count  who  is 
playing  with  you  is  a  great  man — not  a  boy." 

"Cipriano  Danella,"  ejaculates  Barnes;  then 
turns  to  her  and  questions  sternly: 

"  This  is  all  you  can  tell  me?     Is  it  the  truth?  " 

"  Yes,  as  God  will  never  forgive  me — yes." 

"  Very  well,"  says  Barnes,  "  I  thank  you  for  the 
information.  I  will  now  see  that  you  get  out  of  Cor 
sica  safely. 

"How?" 

"  My  friend,  the  great  Bellacoscia,  will  do  it  for 
me." 

"  The  great  bandit !  He  will  take  me  from  Cor 
sica?  Diable,  the  magnificent  bandit — that  would 
be  an  adventure,"  laughs  the  volatile  lady  airily. 
"  The  ferocious  bandit  I  have  read  of !  This  Bella 
coscia  who  kills  gendarmes  as  if  they  were  flies! 


264.  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

That's  greater  than  even  a  pork  packer,  a  cattle 
man  or  a  Count  Danella,  isn't  it?  I  thank  you  for 
the  bandit,  Mr.  Barnes.  Besides,  I  thank  you  for 
the  first  kiss  after  you  swore  to  the  minister  to  love 
and  cleave  to  Enid  Anstruther.  Don't  tell  your 
bride;  she  would  not  like  it.  Mr.  Barnes  of  New 
York." 

With  a  muttered  groaning  oath,  Barnes  runs  down 
the  stairs,  her  airy  laugh  pursuing  him  through  the 
old  hallway  of  the  Corsican  house. 

He  steps  out  upon  the  porch.  The  great  oaks 
had  seemed  romantic  to  him  when  he  entered;  the 
vines  climbing  up  the  balustrades  had  appeared  poet 
ical,  the  grand  mountains  tipped  with  snow  under  the 
soft  southern  moonlight  had  inspired  him  by  their 
beauty.  Now  all  is  a  hideous  blank  to  him.  He 
mutters :  "  Cipriano  Danella,"  and  asks :  "  My 
God,  where  is  she?  " 

A  happy-faced  young  man  with  elated  air  and 
dust-covered  clothes  is  spurring  hastily  up  the  ave 
nue,  a  native  boy  trotting  beside  him.  Seeing  the 
American,  he  calls  out :  "  Glad  to  hear  you  and 
Enid  are  again  yardarm  to  yardarm;  though  you 
look  lovesick  enough,  Barnes  of  New  York. 

Awaking  with  a  start,  Burton  looks  at  him  and 
gasps :  "  Edwin,  you  here?  " 

"  Easy  enough.  I  found  a  letter  left  with  Lady 
Chartris's  housekeeper  by  my  wife  to  be  delivered  to 


A    SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES        265> 

me  this  morning,  which  told  me  Marina  had  come  to 
Bocognano.  So  I  rushed  into  Nice.  By  good  luck 
I  found  Alingham's  yacht  was  coming  straight  to 
Ajaccio.  For  my  sake  he  put  on  steam.  I  made 
the  twenty-five  miles  up  here  from  the  Corsican  capi 
tal  on  a  horse,  arriving  before  they  extinguished 
the  lights  in  the  inn.  There  they  told  me  of  my 
noble  wife  and  how  Marina's  words  had  banished  our 
vendetta  from  Bocognano." 

This  is  spoken  as  he  springs  off  the  horse,  tosses 
the  bridle  to  the  boy,  and  runs  up  the  stairs.  "  Ma 
rina  is  inside,  I  imagine,"  he  says,  and  calls  through 
the  doorway :  "  You  needn't  hide  from  me,  dear 
one,  though  I  was  mighty  angry  at  your  deser 
tion." 

A  silvery  laugh  from  up  the  stairs  greets  him,  but 
he  turns  back  and  asks:  "Whose  laugh  is  that? 
It's  not  that  of  my  wife !  "  and  gazing  into  Barnes's 
statue-like  face,  with  its  awful  gleaming  eyes, 
growls:  "Hang  it,  why  don't  you  speak?  What's 
the  matter?" 

"  Marina  left  for  Bastia  over  an  hour  ago." 

"  Why  did  she  leave  for  Bastia?  " 

"  A  telegram,"  answers  Barnes,  "  purporting  to 
come  from  you  stating  that  you  would  be  at  that 
place  to-morrow  morning.  Notwithstanding  her 
fatigue,  she  went  on  by  carriage  to  meet  you." 

"  A  telegram?    Impossible!    Bastia  is  at  the  north 


266  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

end  of  the  island.  I  arrived  at  Ajaccio,  the  south 
end.  Besides,  I  sent  no  telegram." 

Edwin  is  interrupted  by  a  short  cry  from  Barnes : 
"  Cipriano  Danella !  " 

With  an  execration  Anstmther  asks  hoarsely: 
"  Do  you  think  he  has  aught  to  do  with  this  ?  " 

"  I  am  pretty  certain  of  it.  You  do  not  realise 
that  fellow's  passion  for " 

"For  my  wife?  By  Heaven,  I'll  kill  him!"  and 
the  young  English  officer  looks  round  to  call  the 
boy  who  has  come  with  him,  but  the  urchin,  being 
eager  for  bed,  is  already  out  of  hearing  with  the 
horse.  Suddenly  he  cries :  "  Barnes,  you're  not 
going  to  leave  Enid  here  unprotected,"  for  the 
American  is  almost  running  down  the  avenue,  Edwin 
after  him. 

"  I  haven't  found  my  wife." 

"  The  lady  upstairs,  whom  I  heard?  " 

"  Was  not  Enid.  It  was  that  infernal  La  Belle 
Blackwood,  and  yet  I  forgive  her,  for  she  told  me 
the  direction  she  thought  Enid  had  taken,"  and  as 
they  half  trot,  half  stride  down  the  avenue  under  the 
chestnut  trees,  Burton  epitomises  his  adventures  of 
the  day. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now?  " 

"  Get  horses  and  follow  your  wife.  She  is  the 
one  to  which  we  have  a  clue.  We  must  prevent  her 
falling  into  Danella's  hands.  Perhaps — I  pray  God 


A    SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES        267 

— in  following  her  we  may  find  also  the  way  to  my 
wife." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  Cipriano  is  the  real  brains  of  this  in 
fernal  outrage.  He  has  the  money  of  the  affair. 
He  loves  your  wife." 

"Curse  him!" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it  by  his  eyes.  When  I  get  hold 

of  him,  he  shall  tell  me  where  Enid  is,  or "  The 

American's  face  is  as  diabolical  as  that  of  an  Apache 
Indian. 

As  they  reach  the  gateway  of  the  grounds  they 
are  abruptly  intercepted.  One  of  the  young  Bella- 
coscia,  hidden  in  a  tree,  springs  out  to  them,  gun 
in  hand,  but  recognising  Mr.  Barnes,  the  young  man 
says :  "  I  am  one  of  those  watching  that  no  Saliceti 
troubles  you.  I  let  this  man  pass  because  I  saw  he 
was  a  foreigner." 

"That's  all  right,"  replies  Burton,  "but  could 
you  show  me  the  telegraph  station  and  where  to  get 
horses?  " 

"  Beside  Hotel  Mouvrages  in  the  main  street  is  the 
telegraph  station,"  answers  the  young  man,  "  and  a 
stable  to  hire  horses  is  at  the  inn." 

"  Thank  you.  Also  I  want  to  see  your  chief,  if 
he  hasn't  already  gone  to  the  mountains." 

"  Is  it  important?  " 

"  Very." 


268  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Then  Signore  Antonio  will  be  here  in  a  few  min 
utes,"  answers  the  young  fellow  and  speeds  off 
through  a  neighbouring  lane. 

The  two  hurry  to  the  inn;  but  Bocognano  has 
gone  to  bed.  Its  houses  are  all  unlighted,  their 
doors  are  locked.  In  this  land  of  the  vendetta,  even 
at  the  auberge,  people  hesitate  to  open  for  unknown 
travellers  knocking  on  the  portal. 

There  will  be  no  chance  to  telegraph  to  Bastia  or 
any  way  station  on  that  road  before  to-morrow 
morning.  It  is  nearly  an  hour  before  they  succeed 
in  arousing  a  somnolent  hostler  at  the  inn  stables, 
who  mutters  all  the  horses  are  tired  and  must  have 
a  night's  rest.  But  stimulated  by  a  gold  piece  placed 
in  his  sleepy  hand  the  man  finally  awakens  sufficiently 
to  saddle  two  horses,  which  he  says  are  the  liveliest 
of  any  in  the  stable. 

On  two  sorry  beasts  they  dash  up  to  Marina's 
home  and  find  waiting  on  its  steps  the  great  bandit 
and  one  or  two  of  his  men. 

"  I  have  a  favour  to  ask  you,  Signore  Bonelli,  in 
addition  to  the  others  you  have  done  me;  that  you 
will  escort  to  the  yacht  at  Sagone  the  lady  within 
this  house  and  get  her  safely  out  of  Corsica." 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  ask  that,  Mr.  Barnes  of  New 
York,"  cries  La  Belle  Blackwood,  stepping  airily 
onto  the  veranda.  "  I  have  already  petitioned  the 
great  Bellacoscia,  and  I  think  he  will  protect  me 


A    SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES        269 

against  any  man;  won't  you,  Signore  Bonelli? " 
The  softness  of  her  sweet  voice  is  a  caress. 

She  has  donned  a  Corsican  costume,  the  mandile 
decks  her  hair  with  exquisite  grace,  the  clinging 
skirt  displays  the  alluring  outlines  of  her  Venus 
form. 

"  Sapristi,  will  not  I ! "  says  the  magnificent  man, 
his  hawk's  eyes  flashing  as  they  look  upon  the  love 
liness  of  the  entrancing  American  adventuress. 
"  Count  on  Bonelli  to  his  heart's  blood."  Then  he 
asks  moodily :  "  But  why  are  you  compelled  to  leave 
your  wife,  Signore  Barnes?  " 

"  This  lady  is  not  my  wife.  " 

"  Santa  Maria,  not  your  wife !  Gran  Dio,  whose 
spouse  is  she?  " 

"  Nobody's." 

"  Diavola  suprema! "  cries  the  great  bandit,  a 
tremendous  joy  flying  into  his  face.  "  And  you — 
you  leave  this  loveliness?"  he  adds,  as  if  he  cannot 
understand. 

"  Ah,  you  think  the  dress  of  your  island  becomes 
me?  "  asks  the  lady,  playfully  poking  from  beneath 
the  short  skirt  a  foot  and  ankle  of  such  surpassing 
beauty  that  the  great  Antonio  nearly  gasps. 

"  Her  loveliness  is  not  mine,  Signore  Bonelli,"  re 
marks  Burton,  coldly.  "  Besides,  it  is  a  matter  of 

life  and  death  that  calls  me.  This  gentleman " 

Barnes  introduces  Edwin — "  is  the  husband  of 


270  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Mademoiselle  Paoli,  who  has  been  lured  from  here  by 
a  lying  telegram  to  Bastia.  We  journey  to  protect 
her  against  a  design  upon  her  safety — upon  even  her 
lionour.  Lieutenant  Anstruther,  unused  to  the  lan 
guage,  would  be  of  little  use." 

"  Design  against  the  honour  of  the  daughter  of 
the  Paoli !  "  snarls  Bonelli.  "  Impossible !  I  will  go 
with  you  upon  this  errand  myself." 

But  the  enchanting  tones  of  Sally  Blackwood  make 
liim  pause ;  she  is  pleading :  "  What,  and  desert  me 
among  your  wild  mountains?  " 

"  No,  'tis  best  I  go  not,"  remarks  the  bandit  chief. 
"  Gendarmes,  with  me  in  your  company,  would  be 
an  embarrassment,  and  they  in  their  bungling  way 
may  doubtless  aid  you.  And  your  wife,  where  is  she, 
Signore  Barnes  ?  " 

"  Still  in  the  hands  of  Saliceti  or  his  friends." 

"  They  did  not  surrender  her  as  they  agreed?  " 

"  No.     They  substituted  this  lady." 

"  Corpo  di  Diavolo,  Saliceti  has  tricked  me !  Sali- 
•ceti  has  braved  me !  Saliceti  has  made  me  break  my 
word  to  you,  Signore  Americano.  For  that — " 
the  bandit  raises  his  hand  solemnly — "  I  proclaim 
a  vendetta  against  Bernardo  Eduardo  Saliceti." 

"Oh,  don't  do  that!"  half  shrieks  the  beautiful 
La  Blackwood.  "  Saliceti  is  so  young  and  gallant. 
He  only  wishes  to  walk  in  the  hall  of  the  deputies." 

But  every  entreaty  of  the  exquisite  creature  for 


A    SURPRISE    FOR    MR.    BARNES        271 

the  gallant  young  Saliceti  seems  to  strangely  inflame 
Bonelli's  rage  against  him. 

He  remarks:  "  By  all  the  Saints  he  shall  walk  in 
the  halls  of  death ! "  and  commands  ferociously : 
"  Young  men  of  the  Bellacoscia,  remember  this  ven 
detta  as  you  load  your  guns  and  sit  by  the  moun 
tain  paths."  Then  his  eyes  grow  strangely  soft  as 
he  says  almost  caressingly  to  the  piquant  Black- 
wood  :  "  Dry  your  eyes,  petite,  for  young  Saliceti," 
and  laughs  significantly :  "  Dio  mio,  there  are  other 
men  than  he  in  Corsica." 

As  they  ride  away,  Barnes,  gazing  on  the  chief's 
enamored  eyes,  says  grimly  to  Edwin :  "  The  more 
the  alluring  Sally  implores,  the  less  chance  for  Sali 
ceti.  This  ends  the  politician,  I  imagine.  Now  for 
the  other !  "  and  his  eyes  have  a  faraway  gaze  as  the 
two  in  pursuit  of  Marina  spur  along  the  gloomy  yet 
romantic  road  toward  Corte  and  Bastia,  the  moonlit 
mountains  on  either  side  seeming  to  smile  sadly  on 
them. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH 

BOTH  young  men  are  riding  light;  Barnes  for  this 
speedy  dash  has  left  his  rifle  and  his  field  glasses 
behind  him,  and  they  gallop  up  the  pass  of  the 
Force.  But  the  ascent  is  so  steep  they  are  soon 
compelled  to  walk  their  horses.  A  precipice  is  on 
one  side  of  them  and  the  great  flanks  of  Del  Oro  are 
on  the  other.  Both  Edwin  and  Burton  have  been 
silent,  thinking  of  their  wives.  The  latter  now  re 
marks,  pointing  to  a  deep  gorge  running  up  the 
mountain  side:  "That,  I  believe,  leads  to  La  Pin- 
tica,  the  home  of  the  Bellacoscia,  which  the  gen 
darmes  never  dare  to  visit." 

"  I  wonder  if  the  great  bandit  will  take  La  Black- 
wood  there?  "  observes  Edwin,  with  a  grimace  that 
at  a  happier  moment  would  be  a  smile. 

But  they  having  reached  the  summit  of  the  Col, 
now  speed  their  horses  sharply  down  the  declivities 
into  the  great  forest  of  Vizzavona,  the  road  leading 
them  through  pines,  beeches  and  the  inevitable  chest 
nut  trees. 

They  have  passed  no  one  in  the  darkness.  In  fact, 
they  have  not  yet  gone  far  enough  to  have  any  hope 

272 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         273 

of  overtaking  Marina  unless  accident  has  befallen 
her  vehicle.  Besides,  her  horses  were  fresh;  theirs, 
according  to  the  hostler,  had  been  ridden  during  the 
preceding  day. 

Soon  after,  they  dash  through  the  village  of  Vi- 
vario,  announced  by  the  barking  of  some  curs  and 
the  grunting  of  some  pigs.  "  Every  house  in  the 
village  is  closed  and  no  one  would  open  for  us  in 
the  dead  of  night  in  this  land  of  the  vendetta,"  re 
marks  Barnes. 

They  go  to  climbing  again,  and  soon  after  descend 
through  the  gorge  of  the  rapid  Vecchio,  the  river 
foaming  far  beneath  the  road,  while  rocky  hills  and 
sharp  mountains  rise  on  either  side.  With  the  first 
light  of  the  morning  they  ride  through  the  hamlet 
of  Serraggio. 

Until  this  time  Del  Oro  has  always  been  with 
them.  A  glance  over  the  shoulder  and  they  see  its 
white  peak.  Now  it  passes  out  of  view.  They  have 
knocked  at  no  doors ;  they  have  made  no  inquiries ; 
they  have  only  hurried  on.  But  some  hour  after  the 
red-tiled  houses  of  Corte  loom  up  before  them  and  a 
few  minutes  later  they  jog  their  tired  steeds  up  one 
of  the  principal  streets  of  the  central  inland  town 
of  Corsica,  the  great  Monte  Rotondo  now  looking 
down  upon  them. 

Above  them  are  tall  elm  trees  that  catch  the  rays 
of  the  rising  sun.  Flanked  on  each  side  by  white 


274  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

stone,  red-roofed  houses,  they  pass  between  the  hotels 
Pierracci  and  Paoli,  almost  deserted  now,  this  being 
the  beginning  of  the  hot  summer  season.  Along 
the  street  are  many  placards  indicating  the  ap 
proaching  election.  Every  time  he  sees  the  name  of 
Saliceti,  Barnes,  compressing  his  lips,  thinks  of  his 
lost  darling. 

At  the  Pierracci  they  learn  from  one  of  the  waiters 
that  a  lady  had  paused  to  obtain  a  relay  of  horses, 
and  he  had  brought  out  to  her  at  her  request  a  cup 
of  coffee. 

"Was  she  driven  by  an  old  man?"  questions 
Edwin,  hurriedly. 

"  Yes,  with  a  beard  like  a  bandit,"  answers  the 
man  with  a  grin.  "  The  carriage  was  full  of  cycla 
men  flowers.  You  could  smell  them  all  over  the 
street." 

"  It's  your  wife,"  whispers  Barnes,  giving  the  man 
a  twenty-franc  piece  that  makes  him  look  almost  as 
happy  as  this  news  does  Anstruther. 

"  Only  an  hour  ago !  We  will  overtake  Marina 
long  before  she  reaches  Bastia,"  cries  Edwin. 

Both  men  drink  a  cup  of  coffee  and  eat  a  little 
with  almost  gusto,  for  anxiety  has  partially  left  the 
face  of  Edwin,  and  Barnes  hopes  he  may,  by  Marina, 
obtain  a  clue  to  the  whereabouts  of  his  bride.  "  Let 
Marina  go  on  ahead  of  us  after  we  catch  sight  of 
her,"  he  says  to  Edwin,  "  and  see  what  will  happen 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         275 

to  her.  It  may  give  us  some  hint  as  to  the  location 
of  Cipriano." 

"  Let's  sight  my  wife  first,"  answers  the  English 
sailor  eagerly,  and  the  two  gallop  on,  fresh  horses 
under  them,  now  quite  certain  of  overtaking  Mrs. 
Anstruther. 

They  ride  hurriedly,  the  road  skirting  the  torrent 
of  the  foaming  Vecchio  until  considerably  over  an. 
hour  after  leaving  Corte  they  reach  Ponte-alla- 
Lecchio,  where  the  big  bridge  crosses  the  river  Golo. 
During  this  the  horsemen  note  more  signs  of  the 
coming  casting  of  votes. 

Some  of  the  "  Lucchese  "  workmen  from  Italy  are 
throwing  stones  at  an  election  placard  that  dis 
pleases  them.  "  The  pests  from  Lucca,"  mutters  a 
Corsican  shopkeeper  as  they  buy  a  glass  of  wine 
from  him,  "  are  always  riotous,  and  at  election 
times  batter  every  one's  heads  with  stones — their 
own  included.  They've  been  here  since  sunrise  fight 
ing  and  brawling.  I  heard  their  shouts  when  I  was 
in  bed.  But  everyone  pardons  the  '  Lucchese ' ; 
they  do  all  our  hard  work,"  adds  the  man  with  a 
grin,  pocketing  the  coin  Edwin  hands  him. 

But  the  wine  shop  keeper  can  tell  them  nothing  of 
a  woman  travelling,  and  to  their  astonishment, 
though  they  make  many  inquiries,  they  hear  of  no 
lady  in  a  carriage  passing  through  the  village  this 
morning. 


276  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  It's  quite  possible,"  says  Edwin  to  Barnes,  "  she 
didn't  stop  here.  Her  horses  were  fresh.  She's  gone 
on.  No  one  has  noticed  her." 

"  That's  very  true,"  answers  Burton,  though  his 
face  grows  more  concerned  and  gloomy. 

Therefore  they  ride  rapidly  along  over  the  now 
well-kept  road,  which  generally  skirts  the  Golo.  An 
hour  or  so  later  it  abruptly  reaches  that  region 
where  the  river  spreads  out  in  marsh  and  mere  that 
gives  Corsica  the  name  of  being  unhealthy.  Turning 
north,  they  spur  on  over  the  causeway  that  crosses 
the  great  lagoons  and  soon  after  passing  through 
some  small  villages,  they  come  out  upon  the  sea  and 
ride  almost  straight  along  its  shores,  to  enter  that 
miniature  Genoa,  called  Bastia,  some  two  hours  be 
fore  mid-day. 

Barnes  pilots  his  companion  to  the  Hotel  de 
France.  "  You  should  like  this  inn,"  he  observes ; 
*  it's  on  the  Boulevard  Paoli." 

Catching  sight  of  a  gentleman  in  a  tall  hat  and  a 
swallowtail  coat,  Barnes  says :  "  These  are  the  only 
ones  in  Corsica,  I  think,  and  that's  Monsieur  Staffe, 
the  head  of  the  hotel.  I  know  him.  Now  we'll  get 
news  of  your  wife ;  she's  probably  put  up  here." 

So  they  spring  off  their  horses  and  dear  old  Mon 
sieur  Staffe,  recognising  the  American,  remarks: 
"  Hola,  Mr.  Barnes  of  New  York !  "  then  adds  with 
a  smile :  "  Ciel,  it's  lucky  I  remembered  you,  or  I 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         277 

would  have  suspected  you  were  a  bandit  from  our 
mountains." 

And  Barnes  looks  like  one.  The  dust  of  two  days' 
travel  is  heavy  on  him ;  his  hair  is  unkempt ;  his  eyes 
glare  from  their  sockets  made  hollow  by  fatigue. 
Edwin  looks  scarcely  better,  though  his  appearance 
is  that  of  a  sailor  on  a  cruise  ashore. 

Monsieur  Staffe  is  about  to  offer  them  rooms  when 
they  both  suddenly  question  him  and  learn  to  their 
concern  that  no  lady  has  arrived  from  the  interior 
this  day  at  his  hotel. 

"  She  is  drawn  by  two  horses  driven  by  an  old 
Corsican  with  a  beard  several  weeks  old,"  says 
Barnes. 

"  It  doesn't  matter  how  she  was  driven ;  no  lady 
has  arrived  here,  gentlemen." 

"  Then  Marina  must  have  gone  to  inquire  at  the 
steamer  offices  as  to  when  I'll  arrive,"  cries  Edwin. 

"  Mon  Dieu!  "  ejaculates  old  Monsieur  Staffe,  his 
eyes  lighting  up,  "  you  are  the  young  English  naval 
officer  whose  wedding  to  Mademoiselle  Paoli  created 
such  an  excitement  in  the  island  two  weeks  ago.  Be 
lieve  me,  Monsieur,  your  wife  is  not  in  Bastia,  or  I 
should  have  heard  of  it.  Everybody  here  honours  the 
name  of  Paoli — and  your  sweet  spouse  is  very  much 
loved  for  her  own  dear  self." 

Despite  Monsieur  Staffe's  assertions,  the  two 
young  men  stride  out  of  his  hotel,  and  though  des- 


278  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

perately  fatigued,  make  inquiries  at  the  offices  of  the 
Fraissinet  and  the  Florio  Ruballinio  companies,  but 
no  lady  asking  for  arriving  boats  has  been  there,  at 
all  events,  none  answering  Marina's  description. 

"  She  may  be  on  the  quay  waiting  for  me,"  sug 
gests  Edwin,  anxiously.  So  the  two  patrol  the  land 
ing  place,  where  the  sea  air  doesn't  seem  to  elevate 
the  sailor's  spirits.  He  looks  disconsolately  at  the 
statue  of  Napoleon  and  mutters :  "  Hang  it,  she 
hasn't  hove  in  sight ; "  then  gasps  in  frightened 
tone :  "  My  Lord,  if  anything  has  happened  to 
her!" 

"  We  may  have  passed  her  on  the  road,"  remarks 
Barnes  sympathetically,  his  anguish  making  him  feel 
for  his  companion.  "  We'll  give  her  two  hours  to 
come  in  and  overtake  us — two  hours  of  rest,"  the 
poor  fellow  stretches  his  limbs  wearily.  "  I'm  flesh 
and  blood,  Anstruther.  You  didn't  climb  mountains 
all  yesterday,  as  I  did." 

But  Edwin,  being  unaccustomed  to  horseback  ex 
ercise,  though  wiry  enough  upon  the  ship's  deck, 
is  stiff  and  sore.  Compelled  from  very  fatigue,  the 
young  men  contrive  to  limp  back  to  the  Hotel  de 
France,  where  they  are  very  well  taken  care  of,  and 
two  hours'  sleep  measurably  revives  them.  Barnes 
has  had  a  shave  and  would  look  almost  debonair 
when  he  comes  down  to  breakfast  at  noon,  but  the 
cavities  which  hold  his  eyes  abnormally  brightened 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         279 

by  anxiety  give  the  lie  to  any  appearance  of  light 
ness. 

Anstruther  is  even  more  worried  than  before — 
and  now  as  the  day  draws  on,  without  his  wife  ap 
pearing,  a  look  of  fear  comes  into  the  young  man's 
face  that  is  horrible. 

Gazing  at  him,  Barnes  mutters :  "  Are  you  good 
for  another  ride?  " 

«YeS_where?" 

"  We  must  take  the  back  track,"  says  the  Ameri 
can.  "  We  rode  too  rapidly  this  morning,  thinking 
Marina  was  just  ahead  of  us,  for  a  critical  investi 
gation." 

"  Get  under  way,"  answers  the  lieutenant,  and  the 
two  ride  out  of  Bastia,  making  inquiries  at  every 
village  and  learning  nothing. 

In  fact,  the  peasants,  as  they  get  nearer  Ponte- 
alla-Lecchia,  are  too  much  excited  over  the  election 
of  the  morrow  to  talk  about  much  else.  "  Voting- 
day  is  to  be  enlivened  by  a  race  riot  of  the  Luc- 
chese,"  says  one  whom  Barnes  is  questioning  on  the 
highway  just  where  the  Morosaglia  road  leaves  it 
leading  to  the  Tuscan  Sea.  "  It  broke  out  strong 
to-day  at  Cervione  and  Orezza.  Even  the  chestnut 
woods  of  Castagniccia  didn't  escape.  If  those  Ital 
ian  brutes  come  up  here  to-morrow,  we  are  ready  for 
them."  He  pats  caressingly  a  long  gun  slung  over 
liis  shoulder. 


280  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Edwin  has  dismounted  and  is  slouching  morosely 
about  the  road  to  ease  his  tortured  legs. 

"  Why  don't  they  wipe  out  these  mutinous  Luc- 
chese?  "  says  the  officer  in  quarterdeck  tones  as  they 
get  on  their  horses  again. 

"  Then  the  native  Corsicans  would  have  to  work. 
These  Lucchese  come  over  here  from  Italy  and  do  the 
manual  labour  for  them.  But  I  can  find  no  trace  of 
your  loved  one  or  of  mine,"  adds  Barnes,  almost 
despairingly,  as  they  ride  along  the  road,  their  in 
quiries  growing  more  close  and  persistent  till  they 
reach  Corte. 

Here,  absolutely  worn  out,  the  two  young  men 
turn  from  the  Hotel  Paoli  and  go  into  the  Hotel 
Pierracci.  "  Her -old  name  on  the  other  house  drives 
me  distracted,"  mutters  Edwin,  tears  coming  into 
his  eyes. 

Together,  disconsolately,  the  poor  fellows  force 
themselves  to  try  to  eat.  The  election  excitement  is 
growing  higher,  a  brass  band  comes  past,  at  its  head 
a  placard  "  Vote  for  Saliceti !  "  and  Barnes  gnashes 
his  teeth. 

But  turning  from  this,  he  rather  curiously  says 
suddenly :  "  Anstruther,  you've  got  a  flower  in  your 
buttonhole." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  was  so  miserable  I  hardly  knew  what 
I  was  doing.  I  picked  up  this  crimson  thing  in 
the  road  when  you  were  talking  to  the  peasant  who 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         281 

was  telling  you  of  the  Lucchese  riots  down  at 
Orezza." 

"  There  was  no  tree  bearing  the  flower  where  you 
picked  it  up  ? '"  asks  the  American  suddenly. 

"  No,  I  think  not.  I  don't  believe  there  was  a 
shrub  of  any  kind  within  a  hundred  feet  of  it.  Why 
do  you  ask?  "  for  the  other's  tone  is  excited. 

"  Why,  because  that's  the  cyclamen  flower,  one 
of  the  kind  of  which  Marina  bore  whole  branches  in 
her  carriage.  Was  there  a  branch  attached  to  it?  " 

"  I  think  there  was.  Hang  it,  I  remember,  I 
pulled  it  off.  I — what  are  you  driving  at?  " 

"  Well,  could  that  flower  have  been  dropped  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Morosaglia  road  with  design  by 
your  wife  out  of  her  carriage?  " 

The  English  seaman  gasps  for  breath,  but  tired 
as  he  is  and  stiff  as  he  is  he  staggers  up  and  says 
hurriedly :  "  Come ! "  and  the  two,  through  the 
night  again,  for  it  has  grown  very  dark,  ride  down 
to  Ponte-alla-Lecchia. 

"  By  Heaven,  I  wish  we  had  hope  of  my  sister 
also,"  says  Edwin  as  they  hurry  along,  though  the 
poor  sailor  has  difficulty  in  keeping  himself  in  the 
saddle. 

"  I  have  a  little,"  answers  Barnes. 

"  You  think  Enid  might  be  with  Marina?  " 

"  Yes,  if  Cipriano  Danella  has  her.  He  appar 
ently  wants  a  chance  at  my  life  if  Saliceti  misses  it. 


282  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

He  may  have  taken  Enid  to  some  out  of  the  way 
place,  so  that  striving  to  find  her  I  may  die  in  his 
vendetta." 

Ponte  Lecchia  is  full  of  excited  men  discussing 
the  voting  of  the  morrow.  The  wine  shop  being 
still  open,  everybody  the  night  before  election  seem 
ing  to  be  thirsty,  Mr.  Barnes  makes  some  guarded 
inquiry,  but  learns  nothing  except  that  very  early 
in  the  morning  the  "  Lucchese  "  had  seemed  to  be 
extremely  turbulent. 

So  he  and  Edwin  walk  their  horses  up  to  the  junc 
tion  of  the  Morosaglia  Road. 

"  Did  you  find  that  flower  here?  "  he  asks  Edwin. 

"  Yes,  pretty  well  toward  the  middle  of  the  path." 

Though  the  moon  has  just  risen,  they  can  find 
no  more  cyclamen  blossoms  and  here  a  sudden  com 
plication  confronts  them.  Another  road  leading  to 
ward  the  northwest  and  running  to  Novella,  Belgo- 
dere  and  the  He  Rousse,  also  leaves,  the  Bastia  road 
at  the  same  point. 

"  It  is  just  as  probable  that  Marina's  course  was 
directed  toward  the  northwest  as  toward  the  east. 
In  fact,  it  is  a  toss-up  which  way  your  wife  went," 
remarks  Barnes.  "  Now,  there  is  only  one  way  to 
settle  it,  if  this  cyclamen  flower  means  anything. 
That  is  for  you  to  investigate  one  road  and  I  the 
-other." 

So  it  is  arranged  that  Barnes  takes  the  road  to- 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         283 

ward  the  He  Rousse,  and  Edwin  follows  the  path 
leading  to  the  east  toward  Morosaglia. 

"  If  I  find  no  more  of  these  flowers  going  toward 
the  northwest,  I'll  return  here  and  follow  you,"  re 
marks  Burton. 

After  giving  these  directions,  the  American,  des 
perately  fatigued  and  mightily  sleepy,  jogs  his  steed 
in  the  direction  of  He  Rousse,  twenty  miles  to  the 
northwest.  In  the  moonlight,  the  distracted  man, 
though  he  dismounts  often,  discovers  no  cyclamen 
flowers  lying  in  the  road.  But  as  the  road  has  been 
somewhat  travelled,  branches  may  have  been  brushed 
aside  by  the  feet  of  mules  and  horses;  he  makes  in 
quiries,  and  soon  a  passing  peasant  tells  him  that  a 
lady  driving  two  horses  passed  by  ten  hours  ago. 
So  he  doggedly  keeps  on,  hoping  to  find  some  of  the 
flowers  that  may  indicate  he  is  following  Marina. 

"  It's  the  only  clue  we  have  now  to  Marina,  and 
it  may  lead  me  to  Cipriano,"  he  mutters,  as  he  strug 
gles  to  keep  himself  in  the  saddle. 

Finally,  arriving  at  Belgodere  in  the  early  morn 
ing,  the  lady  with  the  two  horses  becomes  a  woman 
dragging  two  donkeys  to  Isola  Rossa  for  the  use  of 
tourists;  and  learning  from  the  innkeeper  that  no 
carriage  has  passed  through,  exhausted,  worn  out  and 
disappointed,  even  Barnes  succumbs  to  nature.  He 
has  been  forty-eight  hours  under  headway,  thirty  of 
these  on  horseback  and  eight  of  them  climbing  preci- 


284  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

pices;  and  despite  despair  and  anxiety,  sleep  claims 
him — the  terrible  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion. 

It  is  late  when  he  opens  his  eyes  again  and  with 
a  start  wonders  where  he  is.  He  looks  over  the 
brilliant  mountains,  he  sees  the  vines  and  only  a  few 
miles  away,  the  waters  beside  which  stands  Isola 
Rossa.  The  innkeeper  says  "  Breakfast,  Signore," 
and  serves  him  with  crabs  and  lobsters  from  the  Gulf 
of  Fiorenzo.  Mine  host's  little  daughter  places  a 
bouquet  of  wild  flowers  on  the  table.  In  it  gleams 
the  red  cyclamen.  Barnes  remembers  and  orders  a 
fresh  horse. 

While  this  is  being  saddled  he  forces  himself  to 
eat.  "  Anstruther  has  not  followed  me,"  he  reasons. 
"  I'll  have  a  long  ride  to  overtake  him  and  when  we 
meet  Cipriano  Danella  I  want  to  be  fit — to  kill." 
Mounting  a  fresh  steed,  he  gallops  off,  retracing  his 
steps,  all  the  time  in  his  heart  one  question :  "  Where 
is  my  stolen  bride?  " 

The  night  before,  Edwin,  turning  to  the  east, 
begins  to  climb  the  awful  hill  leading  to  the  Moro- 
saglia.  A  few  minutes  after  he  has  left  the  Corte 
road,  in  the  faint  glow  of  the  coming  moonlight,  he 
springs  off  his  horse  and  utters  an  exclamation  of 
delight.  As  he  pulls  himself  sailor  fashion  into  the 
saddle,  he  has  a  branch  of  crimson  flowers  in  his 
hand.  He  is  not  certain  even  now  that  they  indicate 
Marina;  though  they  have  fallen  from  no  overhang- 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         285 

ing  bough,  only  beech  and  Larriccio  firs  being  near 
him,  he  knows  cyclamen  flowers  are  very  common  in 
the  island,  and  the  little  barefooted  boys  and  girls 
sometimes  carry  them  in  their  hands. 

For  a  moment  his  spirits  are  somewhat  heightened, 
but  as  his  horse  continues  to  climb  the  terrible  path, 
thinking  of  his  own  lost  one,  he  grows  gloomy;  the 
mountains  that  border  his  way  seem  giant  spectres 
dogging  him.  Then  of  a  sudden  the  great  moon 
shoots  up  and  the  clustering  peaks  sparkle  like  daz 
zling  jewels — the  Asco,  a  yellow  topaz,  distant  Ro- 
tondo  a  blue  diamond  and  Spolasca  a  red,  flaming 
ruby.  Hope  springs  up  in  him. 

But  a  cliff  shuts  out  these  iridescent  peaks,  and 
he  passes  into  the  macchia,  its  dense  shrubbery  cast 
ing  shadows  on  the  dimly  lighted  path. 

In  the  group  of  hamlets  on  the  hillsides  called 
Morosaglia,  Anstruther  does  not  pause. 

But  as  he  reaches  the  confines  of  the  village,  the 
young  husband  starts  and  his  eyes,  which  fatigue 
had  dulled,  glisten  with  hope.  Here  are  two  paths, 
a  trail  leading  to  the  north,  the  other  and  broader 
one  pointing  east  toward  the  Tuscan  Sea.  Along 
the  latter,  cyclamen  branches  have  been  dropped 
several  times  in  a  short  hundred  yards. 

Their  number  is  significant,  they  have  been  strewn 
quite  continuously  from  the  forks  of  the  road.  "  My 
darling's  message  to  me,"  murmurs  Anstruther,  and 


286  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

rides  as  hastily  as  his  tired  though  wiry  little  horse 
will  take  him. 

But  the  road  is  execrable,  often  very  precipitous, 
and,  when  not  soft  with  mud,  full  of  boulders  and 
sharp  rocks. 

Forty-eight  continuous,  racking  hours  of  unre 
mitting  anxiety,  twenty-four  of  which  have  been 
spent  in  the  saddle,  to  which  the  sailor  is  unaccus 
tomed,  have  told  upon  him.  Though  stiff  in  every 
limb  and  sore  in  every  joint  he  finds  himself  nodding 
in  his  saddle.  Once  he  nearly  falls  from  it  as  his 
worn-out  horse  stumbles  over  a  boulder.  But  the 
branches  of  the  sweet-smelling  posies  he  still  encoun 
ters  on  the  trail  hurry  him  up  hill  and  down  hill, 
over  running  mountain  streams,  through  wooded 
vales.  Yet  at  least  Nature  must  have  its  meed — de 
spite  all  efforts  of  the  rider,  his  head  droops  and  his 
figure  becomes  lax  in  the  saddle. 

His  steed  with  a  whinny  of  joy  almost  runs  down 
into  a  little  valley  and  drawing  suddenly  up  before  a 
high  campanile  stone  building,  Anstruther  falls  off 
his  horse  into  the  arms  of  a  good  Monk  of  the  Con 
vent  of  Piedicroce,  who  mutters :  "  Thank  the 
Saints,  you  got  here  alive  in  time  to  drink  the  water 
of  Orezza."  For  Anstruther's  appearance  between 
fearful  fatigue  and  racking  anxiety  is  now  that  of 
a  man  nigh  onto  death. 

The  hospitable  friars  put  the  invalid  to  bed  and 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         287 

at  high  noon  the  next  day  the  invalid,  after  another 
glass  or  two  of  the  famous  youth-giving  Orezza 
water,  which  here  springs  bubbling  from  the  earth,* 
eats  the  noonday  meal  the  good  friars  set  before 
him,  rises,  gives  them  the  blessing  of  a  strong  man 
and  hurries  on. 

"  He's  a  powerful,  active  sinner,  but  his  face  has 
assassination  in  it,"  whispers  Father  Clement  to 
Father  Ambrose,  their  eyes  turned  upon  Anstruther 
as  he  rides  down  the  hill  and  passes  through  the 
little  village,  where  voting  is  now  taking  place. 

As  he  gallops  from  the  little  hamlet,  some  cycla 
men  branches  greet  him,  he  urges  on  his  steed. 

And  what  a  ride  it  is,  under  the  great  trees  of 
La  Castagniccia,  where  chestnuts  big  as  eggs  drop 
upon  him,  the  giant  chestnuts  that  fed  Paoli's  pa 
triot  army,  the  bread  of  Corsica,  each  dozen  trees 
being  a  peasant  maiden's  marriage  dower. 

But  though  the  woods  are  all  chestnuts,  Edwin 
still  sees  in  his  road  cyclamen  branches,  slightly 
withered  now,  their  fragrance  fading,  and  hope 
grows  higher  in  his  heart. 

So  he  rides  along  the  parklike  vales  of  La  Castag 
niccia,  and  before  him  is  the  green  of  the  great  Ba- 

*The  wonderful  restorative  virtues  of  Orezza  water  are 
such  that  in  Corsica  it  is  almost  considered  the  fountain  of 
youth.  The  French  Government  send  their  soldiers  invalided 
with  the  Tonquin  fever  to  it  and  in  a  fortnight  nearly  all  of 
the  stricken  soldiers  have  regained  their  health. — EDITOR. 


288  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

vella  Forest  fading  away  down  the  hillsides  toward 
the  distant  and  still  unseen  Tuscan  Sea. 

Here  Edwin  checks  his  horse,  springs  off  and  picks 
tip  a  cyclamen  branch,  and  as  he  rides  along,  looking 
at  the  flowers,  suddenly  ejaculates:  "Jove,  how 
fresh  their  perfume  and  plucked  two  days  since." 

But  the  lately  cut  flowers  give  no  warning  to  the 
sailor;  he  is  too  eager  now.  Pausing  at  the  little 
village  of  Pietra,  Edwin  steps  into  the  inn  to  ask 
some  questions  and  hears  news  that  makes  him 
frenzied. 

The  landlord,  delighted  at  his  liberal  hand,  tells 
him  to  avoid  the  communal  where  the  voting  is  go 
ing  on.  "  '  The  Lucchese '  have  got  full  of  wine  and 
are  having  a  riot  in  that  direction.  They  are  perfect 
devils,  these  fellows  from  Lucca  over  across  the  sea 
that  Danella  imported  to  work  upon  his  estates 
here." 

"  Count  Cipriano  Danella  has  estates  here?  "  asks 
Edwin  excitedly. 

"  Yes,  now  it  is  Cipriano.  Down  toward  Cervione, 
where  the  cliffs  run  into  the  sea,  the  only  place  where 
it  is  not  sickly  and  they  have  no  lagoons.  You  can 
know  it  by  the  Genoese  watch  tower  that  was  in 
ruins,  but  the  Count  some  years  ago  had  repaired 
and  made  habitable." 

"  It's  curious  I  never  heard  anyone  mention  Cip- 
riano's  properties  here,"  mutters  the  sailor. 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         289 

"  Oh,  possibly  not.  Till  a  fortnight  since,  they 
belonged  to  Musso  Danella,  the  dead  one,  but  Count 
Cipriano  has  now  taken  possession  of  them." 

"He  is  there?" 

"  Why,  I  think  so.  A  boy  who  came  up  the  pass 
yesterday  said  the  new  Count  had  come  there  in  a 
vessel." 

"  He  is  there  at  present?  " 

"  Quite  sure ! "  laughs  the  man.  "  Cipriano  him 
self  rode  through  here  yesterday  escorting  a  lady 
with  some  of  his  followers." 

"  Aha,  in  a  carriage  driven  by  an  old  Corsican  ?  " 

"  She  was  in  a  carriage,  but  was  not  driven  by  an 
old  Corsican;  a  boy  whipped  the  horses." 

"She  was  young  and  beautiful?" 

"  My  eyes  are  old,  I  could  not  see  well,  Signore. 
The  carriage  came  rapidly  past  me,  three  or  four 
riding  about  it.  The  lady  looked  as  if  she  would  say 
some  words ;  she  rose  almost  as  if  to  spring  out,  but 
something  in  the  carriage  seemed  to  check  her,  and 
they  whipped  up  the  horses.  Oh,  Signore,  how  ter 
rible  you  look ! " 

"The  quickest  way  to  Cipriano's  estates?"  asked 
Anstruther  hoarsely. 

"  Down  the  road  there,  through  the  forest,  over 
two  ranges  of  hills  and  his  land  begins.  But  be 
careful  how  you  go  that  way ;  the  '  Lucchese '  are 
just  beyond  the  village.  Hear  them?  They  are 


290  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

rioting  now,"  as  Neapolitan  outcries  and  Tuscan 
execrations  and  oaths  and  the  rattle  of  stones  are 
heard  further  to  the  east.  "  Best  take  a  by-path." 

Edwin  takes  the  road  pointed  out  to  him;  he 
wishes  no  delay  with  these  Italian  workmen,  whom, 
imported  in  great  numbers  into  the  island,  the  Cor- 
sicans  would  probably  butcher  to  a  man  did  not  their 
natural  laziness  make  them  prefer  to  let  the  "  Luc- 
chese  "  live  and  work  for  them. 

But  the  by-path  doesn't  rid  him  entirely  of  the 
"  Lucchese."  Just  after  he  has  left  the  village  he 
finds  himself  confronted  by  some  hundred  Italian 
workmen,  who  threateningly  demand  drink  money, 
and  unfortunately  noting  the  cyclamen  flower  in  the 
sailor's  hand,  the  red  being  the  colour  of  the  candi 
date  they  do  not  favour,  they  rush  at  him  with  up 
raised  pitchforks  and  scythes. 

But  the  Lieutenant,  remembering  Napoleon's  re 
cipe  for  mobs,  pulls  out  his  pistol.  Dodging  one 
volley  of  stones,  some  of  which  come  dangerously 
near  to  him,  he  dashes  on,  and  there  are  two  wounded 
"  Lucchese "  as  he  rides  away — and  three  empty 
cylinders  in  his  revolver. 

Here  a  broken  cyclamen  branch  makes  him  forget 
all  else,  and  riding  hurriedly,  after  some  hours  of 
mountain  vistas,  he  reaches  a  little  hill  and  gazes  at 
a  view  which  causes  him  for  one  moment  to  pause. 
The  dark  emerald  of  the  woods  descending  quite 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         2Q1 

rapidly,  reaches  the  paler  emerald  of  the  sunlit  Tus 
can  Sea.  Far  out  upon  it,  straight  to  the  east,  is, 
like  a  speck  of  flame  in  the  sun's  last  declining  rays, 
the  little  Isle  of  Monte  Cristo  dedicated  to  eternal 
romance  by  the  great  Dumas ;  further  to  the  left  are 
Pianosa  and  Elba,  where  Napoleon  dreamed  of 
reconquering  the  world  before  Waterloo  and  St. 
Helena. 

Few  sails  are  on  the  quiet  waters  of  the  tropic 
sea,  though  a  sailing  fisher  craft  of  some  burden  is 
anchored  off  the  shore. 

But  what  holds  most  strongly  the  hungry  eye  of 
Edwin  Anstruther  is  the  foreground  of  this  won 
drous  picture. 

Running  into  the  gentle  waves  about  half  a  mile 
from  him  is  a  cliff,  topped  by  a  fairy  green  of 
foliage;  upon  it  stands  a  ruined  turret.  Its  time- 
stained  stones  indicate  it  had  been  a  watch  tower  of 
the  Genoese  in  olden  days  and  that  from  its  top 
centuries  ago  had  flamed  beacons  warning  the  fleeing 
people  that  the  galleys  of  Barbary  pirates  were  rav 
aging  these  shores.  The  mass  of  ruined  masonry 
rising  above  the  foliage  has  been  now  apparently 
repaired.  The  Englishman  sees  the  sheen  of  glass 
in  some  of  the  little  loop-holed  windows.  Beside  it 
on  the  same  cliff  some  fifty  yards  away  is  a  comfort 
able  Corsican  farmhouse,  increased  by  a  long  modern 
addition  whose  windows  are  large  and  whose  portico 


292  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

is  spacious.  Of  a  sudden  he  thinks  he  sees  a  white 
hand  waving  some  piece  of  woman's  lingerie  from  the 
tower,  and  gallops  down  the  road,  careless  of  all 
except  that  it  may  be  his  wife.  Though  it  is  nearly 
dusk,  the  cyclamen  flowers  still  greet  him  with  their 
perfume.  He  rides  across  a  little  bridge  that  spans 
a  chasm  awful  in  its  depth  through  which  the  sea 
rushes.  It  is  light  enough  to  see  very  indistinctly, 
and  he  finds  himself  on  a  lawn  planted  with  ilex, 
citron  and  orange  trees.  On  one  side  is  the  farm 
house;  on  the  other  the  lone  Genoese  tower. 

Some  broken  branches  of  cyclamen  flowers  lead  him 
toward  the  turret.  A  light  is  now  streaming  from 
its  upper  story.  Riding  his  horse  to  the  low-arched 
masonry  that  is  the  entrance  to  the  lower  story,  he 
springs  off  to  alight  upon  cyclamen  blooms.  The 
odour  of  the  flowers  issues  from  the  building  itself. 

The  heavy  oaken  doors  of  the  entrance  are  open 
invitingly,  but  he  scarce  notices  them.  There  is 
only  one  thought  in  his  heart :  "  Is  my  wife  up 
stairs  ?  " 

With  his  revolver  ready  in  his  hand,  he  dashes 
rapidly  up  the  circular  stone  stairway,  upon  which 
open  little  loopholes.  After  nightfall,  these  give  him 
no  light.  But  the  illumination  of  a  lamp  or  candle 
comes  down  the  stairway  as  he  passes  higher  up.  He 
calls:  "Marina,  are  you  there?"  and  enters  the 
chamber  at  the  top  of  the  tower. 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         293 

It  is  lighted  by  a  lamp  and  fitted  up  for  occu 
pancy.  There  is  a  little  bed  in  it,  some  old  chairs 
and  an  oaken  table.  Upon  the  bed  are  a  bunch  of 
cyclamen  flowers  and  articles  of  woman's  apparel. 
He  flies  to  examine  them.  They  are  not  those  of  his 
wife. 

Upon  the  table  is  an  envelope  addressed: 
"  Lieutenant  Edwin  Gerard  Anstruther." 
Its  contents,  written  in  the  same  hand  as  that  of 
Marina's  letter,  makes  the  young  man's  eyes  roll  in 
his  head: 


"MoN  CHER  ANSTRUTHER: 

**  I  have  been  watching  jour  coming,  over  the  hills,  follow 
ing  the  cyclamen  flowers  the  charming  Marina  so  astutely 
dropped  into  the  path  to  bring  you  here — and  am  prepared 
for  your  visit. 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  attracted  to  the  light  in  this 
chamber  when  all  else  was  dark. 

"As  you  read  this  you  are  already  trapped. 

"  Do  you  think  I  will  spare  anyone  who  brought  about  my 
brother's  death?  Ask  Tomasso,  who  is  already  gone. 

"Do  you  imagine,  English  Lieutenant,  who  call  yourself 
husband  to  the  woman  I  have  decreed  shall  be  mine,  that  you 
shall  be  scathless " 


The  sharp  clang  of  the  doors  below  makes  Edwin 
drop  the  letter  and  spring  like  a  topman  down  the 
stairs. 

Though  he  is  quick,  somebody  is  quicker.  The 
strong  doors  are  closed.  As  he  reaches  the  lower 
step,  he  hears  steel  bars  falling  into  their  sockets 


29*  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

outside.  From  without  a  jeering  laugh  makes  him 
know  this  has  been  planned.  This  is  confirmed  by 
the  creaky  turning  of  a  great  key. 

"  Unlock  this  door ! "  he  commands  in  quarterdeck 
tones. 

"  Diable,  not  after  having  had  so  much  trouble  to 
trap  you,"  is  returned  in  almost  Parisian  French. 

Without  a  word  Anstruther  discharges  his  re 
volver  into  the  lock  of  the  door.  He  has  exhausted 
his  three  remaining  cartridges,  when  the  impinge 
ment  of  the  bullets  shows  that  the  lock  is  protected 
by  steel  and  his  attempts  abortive. 

He  is  interrupted  by  loud  cries  of  terror  from  al 
most  beneath  his  feet :  "  Hang  it,  quit  that  shoot 
ing  !  Do  you  want  to  blow  us  up  ?  I  saw  that  scar- 
faced  chap  shove  sticks  of  nitroglycerine  all  around 
in  the  crevices.  This  tower's  mined,  and  that  tarna 
tion  scoundrel  has  got  a  fuse  or  electric  wire  running 
to  it." 

His  own  language  with  a  Yankee  twang  coming 
from  below  startles  Edwin.  He  has  some  matches  in 
his  pocket;  strikes  one,  looks  round  and  sees  a  trap 
door  in  the  flooring  almost  beneath  his  feet.  He 
pulls  it  up  and  peers  down.  His  eyes  glare  into 
those  of  another  man  gazing  up  from  an  under 
ground  vault.  Holding  the  match  so  that  he  can  see 
the  face  he  gasps :  "  Great  guns,  Emory !  I  thought 
you  dead ! " 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         295 

"  I'm  nigh  onto  dead,"  growls  the  detective,  Ed 
win,  almost  stunned  by  surprise,  gazing  at  him 
petrified.  "By  the  living  Jingo,  where's  Barnes? 
I  guessed  some  of  you'd  find  me  out,"  adds  the  Pink- 
erton  man  in  relieved  voice.  "  I  reckoned  you'd 
rescue  a  chap  who's  been  risking  his  life  and  getting 
a  good  deal  the  worst  of  it  in  your  employ." 

"  I  came  to  find  my  wife,"  cries  Edwin  shortly. 
"  Have  you  seen  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  there's  a  lady,  I  think,  in  the  house." 

"  In  the  house?  And  they  have  cooped  me  up  in 
this  tower."  Anstruther  frantically  assaults  the 
door  again. 

"  Oh,  I  reckoned  they'd  be  doing  something  under 
hand  to  you,"  calls  Emory.  "  Come  down  and  help 
me  out  first." 

"  Why  don't  you  come  up  ?     There's  a  ladder." 

"  I  can't.  Dash  it,  they've  got  leg  irons  on  me. 
They  feed  me  on  soup  and  bread  and  don't  even  leave 
a  spoon  with  me  to  dig  out.  I  was  seized  and  smug 
gled  from  St.  Tropez  in  that  darn  fishing  craft  that 
followed  your  yacht  just  the  moment  I  had  it  fixed 
so  I'd  hear  their  plans.  They're  crafty  as  snakes." 

"  A  Pinkerton  man  like  you  captured  in  this  dis 
graceful  way !  "  says  Anstruther  sternly.  For  he 
thinks  had  Emory  kept  his  eyes  open  and  done  his 
duty,  Enid  would  have  escaped  abduction  and  the 
rest  never  have  come  to  pass. 


296  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Oho,  hang  it,  what  have  they  done  to  you, 
smarty? "  growls  the  detective  angrily.  Then  he 
cries :  "  Glory  halleluj  ah !  Bully  for  you !  "  for  Ed 
win  has  run  down  the  ladder  and  is  busy  trying  to 
unloosen  the  irons  from  the  American's  legs. 

"  They've  got  keys  somewhere,"  snarls  Emory. 
"  Hang  it,  think  of  their  cheek,  manacling  a  de 
tective." 

Edwin  is  up  the  ladder  again.  He  strikes  an 
other  match  and  on  the  ground  story  finds,  after 
some  little  delay,  a  bunch  of  keys  hanging  on  the 
wall. 

After  some  trouble  with  the  locks,  which  are  rusty, 
Elijah's  legs  are  released  and  he  ascends  with  Ed 
win,  his  jaws  almost  snapping  with  rage  as  he  tells 
his  wrongs. 

"  I  was  playing  the  fisherman  at  St.  Tropez,"  he 
says.  "  I  had  got  onto  them,  all  right.  I  knew  the 
head  devil,  the  elder  man,  Cipriano,  when,  like  a  darn 
fool,  I  went  on  board  of  that  big,  cursed  fishing 
felucca  to  them,  pretending  to  want  to  get  a  job, 
thinking  I  would  find  out  what  the  devil  they  were 
driving  at.  That  was  the  end  of  me.  I  hadn't  more 
than  got  in  the  forecastle  than  I  was  covered  with 
two  long  knives,  and  that  scar-faced  fellow  said  to 
me :  6  The  first  time,  you  were  warned  to  keep  out 

of  this  affair.  This  is  the  second  time They 

were  savage  enough  to  kill  me,  but  they  simply  corded 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         297 

me  up  and  threw  me  in  the  hold,  and  oh,  what  a  time 
I  had  as  their  infernal  vessel  dashed  about  the 
Mediterranean  after  you.  When  they  gave  up  chas 
ing  you  they  stopped  here  and  put  me  away  care 
fully  in  that  hole  down  there." 

Suddenly  he  cries:  "What  are  you  doing?  "  for 
Edwin  has  his  hands  in  an  iron  ring  and  is  trying  to 
pull  up  another  trap  door  in  the  flooring. 

"  I  want  tools  by  which  we  can  break  enough 
masonry  from  one  of  these  embrasures  to  get  out ! " 
says  the  sailor. 

But  pulling  up  the  trap  door,  both  he  and  the 
American  gaze  astounded  into  the  other  vault. 

Two  red  flaming  eyes  encounter  theirs.  "  If  you 
come  to  kill  me,  I'll  die  like  a  Corsican,  my  teeth  in 
your  throat !  "  cries  a  low,  hoarse  voice. 

Then  as  Anstruther  lights  another  match,  a  shriek 
rises  to  them :  "  The  husband  of  Marina,  Madre  di 
Dio!  " 

"  Tomasso !  "  exclaims  Edwin,  adding :  "  In  God's 
name,  where  is  my  wife?  " 

"  Diavolo,  of  course,  you  have  come  here  to  find 
her.  At  the  fork  of  the  Bastia  Road,  I  thought  the 
*  Lucchese '  captured  my  mistress  and  myself  and 
forced  us  to  drive  toward  the  east.  Coming  over 
the  mountains,  their  language  told  me  they  were  not 
4  Lucchese,'  but  Corsicans.  I  would  have  told  Ma 
rina,  but  when  I  got  out  to  water  the  horses  at  the 


298  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

little  fountain  up  near  Pietra,  two  of  them  struck  me 
insensible  and  I  awoke  and  found  myself  here.  But, 
Signore,  I  beg  you  to  note  one  thing.  Your  true 
wife  and  my  honoured  mistress  believes  she  was  res 
cued  from  the  4  Lucchese  '  by  Cipriano  Danella,  and 
she  is  grateful  to  him.  Get  me  to  the  light  that  I 
may  aid  you."  The  old  Corsican  has  faintly  stag 
gered  up ;  a  moment  later  he  is  pulled  from  the  vault 
by  the  strong  hands  of  Anstruther  and  the  detective. 

"  This  is  old  Tomasso  Monaldi,"  says  Edwin 
shortly,  "  who  was  supposed  to  be  killed." 

"  Holy  smoke,  the  fellow  who  was  believed  dead 
and  they  vendettaed  Barnes  about !  " 

"  Yes." 

But  Tomasso's  words  make  them  feel  they  have 
little  time  to  lose.  Besides,  Emory  is  always  whisper 
ing  with  white  lips :  "  This  tarnation  tower  is 
mined ! "  Together  they  go  up  the  stairs,  carefully 
examining  every  orifice  in  the  building,  but  find  them 
all  loopholes  too  small  to  permit  the  exit  of  a  man, 
and  the  masonry  too  solid  to  be  broken  through  in 
any  ordinary  time,  as  the  building  is  bare  of  tools 
and  weapons. 

"  There  is  nothing  but  to  get  out  of  the  upper 
chamber,"  says  Edwin.  "  I'm  a  sailor.  With  half 
a  chance,  a  single  vine,  with  even  the  assistance  of 
our  clothes  torn  into  lengths,  I  can  scramble  down. 
Some  way  I'll  do  it." 


ALONG    THE    CYCLAMEN    PATH         299 

They  have  reached  the  upper  room.  Anstruther 
has  thrown  off  his  coat  and  vest,  kicked  off  his  shoes 
and  taken  off  his  stockings.  Toes  will  cling  to  the 
rough  stonework  better  than  boots.  He  picks  up  the 
letter  and  the  concluding  sentences  seem  to  make  him 
crazy.  He  springs  to  the  window  and  a  muttered 
oath  parts  his  white  lips,  for  he  encounters  a  grillage 
of  heavy  iron  so  securely  fastened  on  the  outside  that 
it  is  impossible  for  him  to  make  exit. 

But  even  as  Edwin  struggles  with  the  grating,  he 
utters  a  low  cry,  half  of  longing,  half  of  despair. 

Upon  the  portico  of  the  modern  portion  of  the 
farmhouse,  pleasant  with  vines  and  flowers,  almost 
reclining  in  a  hammock  is  Marina.  Robed  in  white, 
the  young  wife  looks  like  a  dream  of  love  to  her 
despairing  husband.  Her  face  is  flushed,  if  not  hap 
pily,  at  least  excitedly.  To  her,  speaking — the  dis 
tance  is  too  great  for  Edwin  to  understand  the 
words,  but  apparently  from  the  gestures  they  are 
those  of  amity — is  Count  Cipriano  Danella,  his  eyes 
sparkling  vivaciously,  his  costume  the  romantic  one 
of  Corsica. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR 

SOME  time  after  mid-day,  Mr.  Barnes,  in  pursuit 
of  Anstruther,  reaches  Ponte-alla-Lecchia,  where  the 
people  are  now  crowding  about  the  polling  house. 
He  doesn't  stop  here  and  continues  rapidly  on,  not 
withstanding  the  sun  is  very  hot,  the  dust  is  very 
heavy.  As  he  climbs  the  high  hills  toward  Moro- 
saglia,  he  commences  to  find  cyclamen  flowers,  quite 
faded  now  and  having  but  little  perfume. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  remarks,  "  I  gave  Edwin  the  right 
path.  I  should  have  turned  back  and  followed  him 
last  night,  not  to-day." 

This  makes  him  hurry  all  the  more,  and  his 
horse  is  quite  exhausted  when  he  descends  the  hill 
past  the  convent  and  pauses  at  the  little  inn  near  the 
famous  waters  of  Orezza. 

The  American  has  heard  of  their  curious  powers, 
and  asks  for  some,  as  he  gazes  languidly  on  the  com 
munal  of  the  little  village,  around  which  the  men  are 
still  clustering. 

The  heat  has  been  tremendous ;  his  speed  has  been 
quite  great ;  the  hills  have  been  precipitous.  Barnes's 
face  is  again  covered  with  lines  of  fatigue. 

"  This  glorious  Orezza  water  will  make  you  a  new 

300 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  301 

man,"  chats  the  landlord  pleasantly;  and  never  had 
the  wondrous  youth-giving-chalybeate  a  better  pa 
tient  to  work  upon,  for  as  the  effervescent  fluid,  cold 
from  the  springs  of  the  mountains,  flies  down  the 
American's  throat,  new  power,  new  vigour  seem  to 
enter  each  nerve,  each  limb. 

As  Burton  mounts  his  steed,  the  innkeeper,  taking 
his  charge  from  him,  noting  that  the  lines  of  fatigue 
have  left  his  customer's  face  and  his  eyes  have  be 
come  normal  and  brilliant,  says :  "  These  are  won 
drous  waters,  are  they  not?  We  only  charge  three 
ha'pence  a  drink.  But,"  he  adds,  "  diavolo,  they 
don't  cure  everything,  though  some  people  think  so. 
I  said  to  a  gentleman  who  was  here  yesterday :  i  They 
won't  take  out  that  scar?  ' 

"  What  kind  of  a  scar?  "  asks  Barnes  indifferently. 

"  A  scar  over  his  left  eyebrow.  He'd  be  a  pretty 
fellow  without  it."  Here  the  innkeeper  sets  up  a 
scream :  "  Marvellous,  the  water  has  made  him 
crazy !  "  for  Barnes  has  kicked  the  sides  of  his  horse 
so  vigorously  that  the  animal  is  bounding  away  at 
full  speed. 

It  is  now  quite  late  in  the  afternoon.  He  soon 
passes  the  chestnut  lands  of  La  Castagniccia,  still 
finding  a  few  faded  cyclamen  blooms  to  guide  him 
on  his  way.  But  now  a  little  shock  thrills  him.  He 
checks  his  horse  abruptly,  springs  off  and  picks  up 
a  bunch  of  the  wild-flowers.  As  he  rides  along  ex- 


302  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

amining  it  he  ejaculates:  "This  is  very  extraordi 
nary.  This  branch,  which  I  supposed  Marina 
dropped  out  of  the  carriage  yesterday,  was  cer 
tainly  cut  this  very  morning." 

Suspicion  flashes  through  him  as  he  questions: 
"  Can  these  flowers  have  been  strewn  in  the  road  by 
Cipriano's  agents  to  lead  someone  on?  "  and  what 
had  been  no  warning  to  the  easy-going  sailor  becomes 
a  danger  signal  to  the  man  of  the  world. 

Yet,  twist  it  how  he  will,  Barnes  can  see  no  reason 
why  Danella  should  want  anyone  near  him  save  Ma 
rina.  If  the  Corsican's  passion  for  that  young 
lady  is  what  he  thinks  it  is,  he  will  prefer  a  free  hand 
to  deal  with  her  alone.  "  And  yet  it  is  evident  some 
body  wanted  somebody  to  follow  this  cyclamen  trail, 
and  whether  somebody  wants  it  or  not,  I  am  here 
anyway,"  thinks  the  American  grimly.  "  And 
thanks  to  the  divine  Orezza  water,  I  am  rather  fit 
for  fighting."  Then  carefully  examining  his  re 
volver,  the  pistol  shot  remarks :  "  And  that's  fit 
also,  thank  God." 

With  this,  resolutely  but  more  circumspectly,  Mr. 
Barnes  continues  his  way  over  the  path  marked  by 
the  cyclamen  branches.  It  is  dusk  when  he  passes 
Pietra,  fortunately  avoiding  any  trouble  in  its 
streets,  though  there  is  much  wine  flowing  and  riot 
ing  in  the  little  hamlet,  the  "  Lucchese  "  being  still 
in  force. 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  303 

By  the  time  he  has  come  out  on  the  hills  looking 
down  toward  the  Tuscan  Sea,  it  is  very  dark.  There 
is  no  moon  yet,  but  the  light  from  the  lone  watch 
tower  attracts  him.  The  cyclamen  flowers  he  oc 
casionally  picks  up  make  him  know  this  is  the  road 
Anstruther  must  have  travelled. 

Suddenly,  but  quietly,  he  turns  his  horse  from  the 
path,  and  in  the  seclusion  of  a  thicket  of  wild  grapes, 
listens.  Some  dozen  men  are  coming  from  the  east ; 
he  hears  one  of  them  growl :  "  Why,  there's  no  *  Luc- 
chese '  nearer  than  Pietra  to  fight,  though  the  Count 
ordered  every  man  about  the  farm  to  go  out  and  pro 
tect  the  vines  from  them." 

"  Well,  there's  some  good  reason  for  Maestro  Ci- 
priano's  orders.  Perchance  the  Italian  labourers  in 
the  Green  Orezza  quarry  have  risen  up,"  adds 
another. 

"  Perhaps  with  the  lady  he  wishes  not  to  be  dis 
turbed,"  giggles  a  third.  "  The  Count  has  musi 
cians  in  a  boat  off  the  shore." 

The  men  have  no  sooner  passed  than  Barnes  starts 
quickly  down  the  road.  The  "  lady,"  he  guesses, 
means  either  Marina  or  his  own  bride,  though  of  the 
last  he  has  slight  hope.  A  subdued  light  from  the 
town  guides  him  in  the  darkness. 

But  when  he  is  within  less  than  a  hundred  yards 
of  the  building,  his  horse,  with  a  sudden  snort  of 
terror,  draws  up  right  in  the  path,  crouching  on 


304,  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

his  haunches,  and  Barnes  peering  over  his  steed's 
head,  gazes  into  the  deep  chasm  that  descends  sheer 
to  the  very  sea.  Springing  from  his  trembling  horse, 
the  American  finds  that  the  bridge,  which  is  a  light, 
swinging  one  not  over  thirty  feet  in  length,  has  been 
swung  to  the  other  side. 

The  scent  of  a  fresh  cyclamen  bloom  enters  his 
nostrils.  He  looks  at  the  removed  bridge  and  re 
marks  acutely :  "  It's  evident  Cipriano  has  got  on 
the  other  side  the  person  he  wished  to  follow  these 
flowers." 

So  Barnes  gazes  across  the  chasm  he  cannot  pass. 
The  night  being  very  still,  he  hears  over  the  soft 
murmur  of  the  waves  beneath  him  the  sweet  romantic 
music  of  Corsica  rising  from  a  boat.  'Tis  the  play 
ing  of  stringed  instruments  accompanying  a  sweet 
native  love  song,  each  stanza  ending  in  that  curious 
prolonged  note  peculiar  to  these  island  ditties. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  that  bizarre,  crafty  devil's 
game?  "  wonders  the  American.  Then  he  hears 
voices  from  the  low  Corsican  house.  Beyond  the 
crevice,  he  sees  Marina  in  white  robe  amid  the  lights 
and  flowers  of  the  veranda.  Her  sweet  tones  are 
scarce  audible.  Then  Danella's  voice  reaches  him 
faintly  in  the  soft  night  air. 

He  begins  to  understand,  and  mutters :  "  Good 
God!" 

After  a  little  a  cry  of  love  yet  despair  rends  the 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  305 

heavens  from  the  tower.  It  is  Anstruther's.  'Tis 
mingled  with  a  woman's  shriek  for  mercy.  "  My 
husband !  "  in  Marina's  voice. 

Next  Barnes  hears  Cipriano's  suave,  triumphant 
laugh,  and  he  mutters :  "  My  God,  for  a  pistol  it's 
a  fearfully  long  shot,  but  it's  the  only  way ! " 

He  examines  carefully  his  revolver,  judges  the 
wind,  which  is  fortunately  very  languid.  Hastily 
he  selects  a  spot  with  a  good  line  of  sight  and  stands 
waiting — waiting  for  the  chance;  for  intervening 
vines  trouble  him,  and  the  foliage  of  a  great  orange 
tree,  standing  alone  in  the  garden  and  midway  be 
tween  the  house  and  the  turret,  jumbles  the  light, 
which  is  only  the  faint  sheen  of  the  rising  moon,  and 
Mr.  Barnes  now  knows  that  in  a  very  little  time  he 
must  shoot  quick  as  lightning  and  straight  as  a  bee's 
flight,  to  save  a  man's  life  or  a  woman's  honour  from 
a  being  subtle  as  Machiavelli  and  remorseless  as 
Beelzebub. 

Slightly  before  this,  Marina  had  been  sitting  on 
the  long  verandah  of  the  Corsican  farmhouse,  the 
lighted  lamps  placing  some  tinges  of  ruby  in  her 
dark  brown  hair  and  giving  colour  to  the  light  semi- 
mediaeval  costume  that  enhances  her  loveliness,  for 
the  heat  being  great  and  her  dress  of  the  journey 
dusty  from  the  road,  the  Count  has  found,  rummag 
ing  over  some  antique  finery  in  the  ancient  house,  an 


306  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

old  summery  Corsican  robe  of  sheer  muslins  and  some 
Venetian  lace  for  the  decking  of  "  his  lady  guest," 
as  he  now  calls  her. 

The  faint  yet  delicious  music  of  her  native  land 
rising  to  her  from  the  sea  takes  the  young  Corsican 
lady's  mind  to  romance.  Her  southern  heart  is  sigh 
ing  for  her  husband — the  song  from  the  boat  is  an 
old  time  heroic  ballad  of  a  woman's  sacrifice  for  the 
bandit  she  adores — how,  to  save  her  fugitive  lover 
from  capture  by  gendarmes,  she  has  given  herself  to 
the  arms  of  a  brigadier,  then  slain  herself  and  him. 
Marina's  glorious  eyes  are  full  of  tears.  In  her  hand 
is  a  cyclamen  flower  plucked  from  a  shrub  beside  the 
balustrade,  and  the  crimson  of  the  bloom  vies  with 
the  blushes  on  her  cheeks,  for  she  is  thinking :  "  Are 
the  flower  branches  bringing  Edwin  nearer  my 
arms?" 

Quietly  entering  from  the  house,  Cipriano  Dan- 
ella,  costumed  in  the  old  time,  romantic  Corsican 
garb,  gazes  upon  the  graces  of  the  exquisite  girl 
outlined  by  the  light  costume,  for,  only  thinking  of 
her  coming  husband,  Marina  is  in  careless  attitude 
and  the  short  skirts  display  ankles  and  feet  of  fault 
less  proportions.  Noting  the  glories  of  her  changing 
face  in  which  romance  is  heightened  by  ideal  love, 
Copriano  mutters  to  himself :  "  There  must  be  some 
taint  in  this  Danella  blood  of  mine  which  makes  it 
riotous.  Diable,  to  this  woman  to  whom  I  should 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  307 

give  death  for  my  brother's  assassination,  I  give  a 
frenzied  passion.  But  I  have  thought  it  out.  'Tis 
accurate  as  an  equation.  The  more  she  loves  this 
husband  of  hers,  the  more  certain  her  beauty  is  mine ! 
Per  Cupidon,  our  little  nuptial  supper  is  in  that 
very  room ! "  The  elation  of  amatory  triumph  in 
flames  him. 

The  eagerness  of  his  glance  draws  Mrs.  Anstruth- 
er's  eyes  to  him.  She  looks  up  and  says :  "  Ah, 
Count  Cipriano,  it  was  very  noble  of  you,  who  I  had 
feared  would  hate  me,  to  rescue  me  from  the  '  Luc- 
chese.'  At  your  advice,  I  have  rested  here,  but  to 
morrow,  notwithstanding  the  romantic  serenade  you 
have  provided  for  me,  I  must  go  on  to  Bastia." 

"  Oh,  yes,  to  Bastia,"  murmurs  the  Count  softly* 
and  stepping  nearer,  says  suavely,  though  there  is  a 
weird  suggestion  in  his  voice  that  somewhat  disquiets 
the  lady :  "  We  are  alone  here  in  my  old  farmhouse, 
only  old  Martha,  the  cook,  who,  far  away,  will  snore 
till  dawn,  and  my  nephew,  Count  Enrico." 

"  I  haven't  seen  him,"  remarks  the  girl  uneasily. 

'*  Parbleu,  you  did  once,  the  gentleman  with  the 
scar  upon  his  face,  the  one  who  delivered  the  letter 
that  caused  your  nerves  to  jump  in  the  Marseilles 
railroad  station.  Even  now  his  name  seems  to  have 
an  ill  effect  upon  you,"  for  Marina  has  started  up, 
and  the  fluttering  of  her  light  skirts  shows  her  limbs, 
are  trembling. 


308  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Mia  Madre,  was  Tie  the  man  ?  "  she  shudders. 
"  And  was  it  you  who  penned  it? "  Then  some 
divination  entering  her  mind,  she  implores  pathetic 
ally  :  "  Holy  Virgin,  no  harm  has  come  to  Edwin  ? 
Have  I  not  kept  the  cruel  pact?  Have  I  not  deserted 
my  dear  husband?  It  was  the  promise  of  that  awful 
letter  that  no  evil  should  come  to  Edwin  if  I  left 
his  arms." 

"  Ah,  but  you  intended  to  return  to  them,  bella 
wiia,"  smiles  the  gentleman. 

The  young  wife  scarcely  heeds  the  insinuation  of 
the  subtle  Italian  term,  but  stammers  confused: 
"  Why  do  you  think  that?  " 

"Ma  foi,  you  were  journeying  to  Bastia  to  meet 
your  husband,  lured  there  by  a  telegram  I  directed 
to  be  sent  to  you  from  that  place,"  whispers  the 
Count  significantly. 

"  The  telegram  was  false?  Edwin  is  not  in  Cor 
sica?  Edwin  is  safe?  Madre  di  Dio,  I  thank  thee! " 
Marina's  voice  rings  with  a  hope  that  produces  a 
supreme  joy  in  Cipriano's  occult  mind. 

This  lady^upon  whom  he  has  set  his  fervid  heart, 
is  courage  personified  as  regards  her  own  safety, 
but  the  great  love  she  bears  this  Englishman  makes 
her  timid  for  him.  'Tis  Danella's  plan  to  use 
for  its  own  destruction  this  generous  and  mighty 
love. 

"  That's   what   I  wish  to   discuss   with  you,"   he 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  309 

observes  quietly,  gazing  upon  a  face  to  which  each 
wave  of  passion  adds  such  loveliness  that  he  cannot 
restrain  the  monstrous  proposition  on  his  tongue.  It 
breaks  forth.  "  My  poor  brother  loved  you,  but  you 
gave  him  death,"  he  whispers  passionately.  "  I  love 
you,  but,  per  Baccho,  you  will  not  give  me  death — 
but  love!  " 

"Love?  Impossible!"  Marina  starts  from  him 
wildly ;  then  scorn  coming  to  her  eyes  and  voice,  re 
marks  haughtily :  "  You  are  speaking  to  a  wedded 
wife,  Monsieur." 

"  Not  legally  wedded,  I  have  hopes.  My  brother, 
poor  Musso,  perchance  by  his  lips  in  private  gave 
his  consent  to  your  nuptials,  but  of  that  I  have  no 
proof.  There  is  no  written  document.  You  are  still 
a  child — but  twenty — according  to  the  French  law, 
you  cannot  wed  without  the  consent  of  your  guard 
ian  for  several  years.  Anstruther,  in  his  careless 
English  way,  thought  not  of  it ;  you  were  too  eager 
for  his  wooing  to  note  the  omission.  By  my  poor 
brother's  death,  his  authority  as  your  guardian 
passes  to  me." 

"  Pish !  I  was  wedded  in  Musso's  very  presence," 
answers  the  girl,  proudly ;  then  cries :  "  I  am  Edwin 
Gerard  Anstruther's  wife,  by  the  Church  and  by  my 
love." 

"  Ohime,  'tis  a  pity ;  you  compel  me  to  make  you 
his  widow" 


310  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  Misericorde,  Edwin's  widow?  "  At  that  awful 
word,  Marina  shudders  and  sinks  overcome  into  a 
chair. 

"  Listen  to  me ! "  Cipriano's  voice  is  deep  with 
menace,  yet  soft  with  passion.  "  On  the  further  cliff 
down  the  coast  are  quarries  of  dazzling-hued  green 
Orezza  marble  that  is  taken  from  this  island  to  deck 
palaces." 

"  Orezza  marble,  what  has  that  to  do  with  Edwin's- 
life?"  half  scoffs  the  girl. 

"  But  it  may  have  something  to  do  with  his- 
death,"  observes  Danella.  "  For  the  blasting  of  the 
rock  is  used  much  dynamite.  I  have  robbed  the 
quarries  and  have  mined  the  base  of  yonder  turret 
with  the  explosive.  In  it  are  three  men:  one,  old 
Tomasso,  whose  knife  entered  my  brother's  heart; 
the  other,  an  American  detective  who  has  placed  his 
Yankee  nose  into  this  vendetta,  unfortunately  for 
himself.  Emory  is  in  that  turret.  You  will  give 
something  for  these  men's  lives  ?  " 

"  For  Emory  and  dear  old  Tomasso  ?  Certainly 
— anything  in  reason."  The  lovely  eyes  are  filled 
with  a  strange  alarm. 

"  Ah,  but  it  must  not  be  in  reason — it  must  be  in  a 

passion   as  exalted  as  my  own — for  you.     When  I 

direct  my  nephew,  who  is  bound  to  me  not  only  by 

j;ies  of  blood,  but  of  gratitude,  and  who  is  inflamed 

^against  you  all  by  his  oath  of  vendetta  for  the  mur- 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  311 

dered  Musso,  he  will  light  the  fuse  leading  to  the 
mine,  and  puff! — that  tower,  with  every  man  who's 
in  it,  goes  into  the  air ! " 

"  Murderer !  "  shudders  Marina,  who  has  listened 
astounded. 

"  Ah,  you  have  sympathy  for  these  poor  fellows ! 
That  is  well;  I  shall  love  you  more  for  your  tender 
heart,"  continues  Cipriano  softly. 

"  But  the  law !  "  half  screams  the  lady. 

"  Pah — in  Corsica — in  a  vendetta.  Besides,  the 
blown-up  tower  will  be  thought  but  another  outrage 
of  the  rioting  '  Lucchese.'  Oh,  this  is  no  worse  than 
dagger  thrusts  or  blows  from  bullets  which  always 
come  in  a  blood  feud.  And  in  that  mined  turret," 
Cipriano's  voice  is  low  but  terrible,  "  there  is  an 
other  man,  who  following  the  cyclamen  flowers  you 
dropped  in  the  road  and  a  few  more  we  added  to 
lead  him  into  that  fatal  tower " 

"  Edwin !  "     Marina's  limbs  hardly  uphold  her. 

"  The  man  you  foolishly  call  husband."  The  fin 
ger  of  the  suave  wooer  noints  to  the  turret's  upper 
floor. 

Then  the  game  is  on! 

Her  eyes  following  his  gesture,  a  shuddering  cry, 
low,  broken,  despairing  yet  full  of  tenderest  love, 
issues  from  the  girl's  lips  that  have  now  become  white 
as  death  itself :  "  Edwin,  my  husband — my  flowers 
brought  you  to  this — following  for  love  of  me " 


312  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"  He  is  caught  like  a  rat  in  my  trap !  "  smiles  the 
Count. 

"  Not  without  warning,  wretch ! "  She  would 
spring  from  the  verandah  and  run  over  to  the  base  of 
the  tower  and  call  up  to  the  man  whose  face  she 
sees  outlined  against  the  grillage  of  the  upper  win 
dow,  through  whose  iron  bars  he  is  struggling  to 
force  his  way. 

But  Cipriano's  strong  hand  clutches  her  white 
arm ;  he  pulls  her  back  into  the  seat  and  commands : 
"  Not  until  you've  heard  my  words,  which  may  save 
his  life!" 

"His  life?    Tell  me!" 

The  soft,  sweet  melody  of  voices  from  the  sea  re 
lates  woman's  immolation  on  love's  altar.  And  she, 
turning  upon  him  agonised  eyes  blazing  with  devo 
tion  to  her  spouse,  her  white  bosom  beating  high 
above  the  laces  of  her  robe,  her  slender  hands  clench 
ing  and  writhing  in  her  agony,  her  face,  which  had 
been  pallid  as  a  death  mask,  growing  gradually 
redder  and  redder  till  it  flames,  a  volcano  of  a 
woman's  shame,  listens. 

"  I  have  explained  you  are  not  legally  this  man's 
spouse,"  Cipriano's  voice  is  trembling  with  desire. 
"  Become  mine!  I  had  purposed  in  Nice  to  give  you 
a  very  cruel  death  for  what  you  had  to  do  with  my 
brother's  killing,  but  when  I  saw  your  beauties  and 
knew  that  the  little  child  I  had  once  seen  had  grown 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  313 

into  a  Venus,  but  no  marble  one,  to  myself  I  said: 
'  Corpo  di  Baccho,  'tis  in  the  blood  of  the  Danellas 
to  love  this  woman.  I  am  enamoured  of  her  as  wildly 
as  poor  dead  Musso.  'Tis  a  mediaeval  idea:  instead 
of  slaying  her,  I'll  have  revenge  in  winning  her — 
against  herself,  the  wife — also  against  the  husband." 

"  Not  against  Edwin !  You  have  no  cause  of  hate 
against  him." 

"  Vendettas  are  caused  by  love  as  well  as  hate ! 
He  dares  to  call  you  wife.  Each  moment  my  eye 
rests  upon  you  increases  thy  sweetness  to  me.  You 
are  Corsican — so  am  I — no  foreigner  should  stand 
between  us." 

"  Holy  Virgin,  you  expect  me  to  love  you?  "  stam 
mers  the  girl. 

To  this  he  answers  with  Machiavellian  subtlety: 
"  Of  course  not  now,  but  that  may  come  in  time.  At 
present  you  love  Edwin!  Because  of  this  devoted 
love — to  save  this  gentleman  you  adore — you  give 
yourself  to  me." 

At  his  hideous  mathematics  the  girls  utters  a  cry 
of  horror. 

"  If  you  would  save  the  life  of  this  Englishman 
whom  I  should  dispatch  by  my  oath  of  the  vendetta, 
at  once  your  kisses !  " 

"Would  Edwin  wish  to  live,  his  wife  untrue? 
Monster !  "  Marina's  face  blazes  with  shame. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  monster ;  simply  a  man  who  has  gone 


MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

crazy  for  thee.  Understand,  if  you  are  mine,  the 
man  in  that  tower  lives.  To-night  on  the  vessel  that 
is  anchored  here,  I'll  bear  you  away  to  some  far 
distant  isle  of  Greece." 

66  My  husband  would  follow  us  forever !  " 

"  Not  if  he  knew  you  were  faithless !  'Tis  not  their 
English  way.  A  woman  who  is  dishonoured  is  no 
more  to  them  than  a  tainted  orange." 

"Dishonoured  in  his  eyes?  NEVER!"  cries  the 
girl.  "  I'd  sooner  you  killed  him — sooner  you  killed 
me,  much!  I'm  in  your  power ;  I'm  alone  here,  help 
less  in  your  hands.  Kill  me.  Let  my  darling  go." 

As  Danella  has  clutched  her,  the  old  neck  fasten 
ings  of  the  ancient  gown  have  given  way ;  she  plucks 
its  laces  further  apart  over  her  dazzling  bosom  and 
begs :  "  Bury  your  stiletto  here ;  but  spare  my 
husband." 

Her  pose  only  makes  her  the  more  alluring  to  his 
devouring  eyes. 

"  What,  kill  the  being  I  adore ! "  shudders  Cipri- 
ano.  "  I  have  no  stiletto  and  I  have  taken  care  no 
knife  is  near  your  desperate  hands,  my  lady.  Be 
sides,  I'll  never  let  you  go.  If  you  will  not  leave 
your  husband  as  his  wife,  leave  him  as  his 
widow." 

"  Here,  Enrico !  "  he  calls. 

The  young  cavalier  with  the  scar  above  his  eye 
brow  comes  onto  the  verandah  and  says :  "  My  uncle, 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  315 

I  honour  thee,  you  have  decided  to  give  this  woman 
death?  " 

"  No ;  life — life  and  love !  and  death  to  those  who 
stand  between  me  and  her!  The  torch  to  the  lone 
orange  tree  in  the  centre  of  the  lawn — you  placed 
the  fuse — when  I  give  the  signal  to  you,  light  it." 

"  Fe  will  be  blown  to  atoms?  "  screams  the  girl. 

"  Jertainly,  then  you  are  free  to  marry  me  and 
can  say  your  prayers  with  a  good  conscience ! " 
laughs  the  Count. 

"  My  uncle,  I  am  bound  to  your  orders  by  the 
oath  of  the  vendetta  and  thy  promise  to  pay  my 
gambling  debts  and  make  me  rich  again,"  said  the 
young  man.  Enrico  passes  from  the  verandah  and 
Marina  sees  the  flame  of  the  torch  moving  to  the 
orange  tree.  She  raises  her  voice  and  shrieks  with 
all  her  force :  "  Edwin,  my  husband,  you  have  only 
a  minute  to  save  your  life.  In  some  way,  descend 
from  the  tower !  They  are  going  to  blow  it  up !  " 

And  a  cry  comes  to  her :    "  My  wife,  impossible !  " 

And  over  it  are  frantic  curses  from  the  American 
detective,  and  the  voice  of  old  Tomasso,  croning: 
"It  is  the  will  of  the  Devil!" 

Marina  shouts :  "  I  can  only  give  you  life  by 
being  this  devil's !  " 

The  answer  of  the  young  sailor  comes,  calm  as 
the  voice  of  an  English  officer  should  be  facing  death : 
"Not  at  that  price,  darling!  Don't  think  of  me!" 


316  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

Then  the  tortured  girl  begins  to  wring  her  hands 
and  sob  as  she  sees  the  men  in  the  tower  struggling 
to  break  out,  struggling  as  men  in  the  turret  of  a 
sinking  battleship.  The  face  she  adores  is  before 
her  in  its  death  agony — the  weird  music  from  the  sea 
comes  faintly  to  her,  telling  of  woman's  devotion, 
for  the  barbaric  ballads  have  been  selected  with  un 
canny  subtlety.  For  one  dread  moment,  Marina 
wildly  thinks :  "  I'll  save  my  Edwin's  life — then  I'll 
keep  myself  from  this  crafty  fiend  by  death  in  the 
waves  from  off  the  vessel  on  which  he  bears  me 
away !  "  But  the  thought  shoots  through  her :  "  My 
dear  husband  will  believe  I  am  a  faithless  and  dis 
honoured  wife !  " 

To  Cipriano,  who  is  triumphantly  murmuring:  "  I 
see,  by  your  blushes,  you're  mine ! "  she  shouts : 
"  Never !  "  and  desperately  would  run  to  the  base  of 
the  tower  and  die  with  her  husband. 

But  the  arms  of  Danella  encircle  her,  holding  her 
firm  as  bands  of  steel.  Inflamed  by  the  propinquity 
of  her  loveliness,  the  contact  of  the  perfect  figure  he 
clasps,  the  subtle  perfume  of  her  waving  hair  that 
tosses  in  tresses  about  him,  Cipriano  is  whispering: 
"  You  have  still  time.  Anstruther  may  yet  live,  I 
have  not  given  the  signal.  Be  mine!  But  one  long, 
sweet  kiss  to  prove  it." 

"  And  never  dare  to  look  on  the  face  of  any  true 
man  or  woman?  No,  no  !  " 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  317 

Frantically  she  has  broken  from  his  arms ;  she 
is  running  towards  the  torch,  desperately  hoping  to 
snatch  it  from  the  hands  of  the  satyr  holding  it 
ready  to  apply  it  to  the  fuse. 

After  one  unsuccessful  step  to  overtake  her  swift 
feet,  Danella  cries  savagely :  "  Fire  the  mine !  " 

Enrico,  the  fuse  in  one  hand,  the  blazing  torch  in 
the  other,  is  applying  the  flame  to  it. 

There  is  a  sharp  whiff  of  the  still  night  air  like 
the  faint  snap  of  a  distant  whip  and  the  man  with 
the  scar  falls,  as  if  struck  from  Heaven. 

"  Diavolo,  what  mystery  is  this?  Myself  to  light 
the  fuse !  "  cries  Cipriano,  and  runs  to  the  flambeau 
flaring  on  the  ground. 

But  Marina,  her  eyes  baneful  with  agony,  mut 
ters  :  "  I  am  Corsican,"  and  as  he  picks  up  the 
torch,  the  desperate  girl  seizes  him  with  her  deli 
cate  hands  and  struggles  with  him  frantically. 

But  her  slight  strength  is  naught  to  that  of  his 
wiry  frame.  Danella  picks  up  the  torch.  "  Take 
your  choice,"  he  whispers.  "  The  Englishman  lives 
and  you  are  my  mistress;  he  dies,  and  you  are  my 
honoured  wife !  " 

He  is  holding  her  down  with  one  knee  pressed  on 
her.  He  is  moving  the  torch  slowly  to  the  fuse;  he 
is  giving  her  a  chance  to  save  the  life  she  loves  by 
despairing  surrender — he  is  giving  himself  just  one 
more  chance  to  win  the  beauty  of  the  woman  who 


318  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

loathes  him — when,  even  as  the  flame  is  flicking  the 
fuse,  another  whiff  rends  the  atmosphere,  and  from  a 
spot  midway  between  his  longing  eyes  spouts  some 
thing  that  is  red  in  the  torch  flame,  and  with  one 
shrill  scream,  "  Morte!  "  Cipriano,  springing  high 
in  the  air,  falls  stark  dead  beside  Marina's  prostrate 
form. 

The  detective  and  Edwin  are  thundering  at  the 
tower  door.  Marina  staggers  to  it,  with  a  great 
effort  turns  the  key  and  lifts  up  the  steel  bars,  and 
stands  faintly  leaning  against  the  stone  masonry  as 
Edwin,  springing  out,  catches  her  in  his  arms. 

"  What  did  it  ?  What  wondrous  thing  wrought 
our  deliverance?  "  he  asks  between  kisses  that  make 
the  girl  wife  think  she  is  in  heaven. 

"  By  gum,  was  it  lightning?  "  asks  the  detective, 
scratching  his  head.  Then  hearing  a  cry  he  runs 
down  to  the  chasm  and  moves  the  swinging  bridge 
into  place  across  the  crevice. 

Over  this  comes  Mr.  Barnes,  leisurely  walking, 
humming  the  sweet  romantic  tune  the  minstrels  are 
sending  up  from  the  distant  sea. 

Looking  at  the  two  dead  men,  Tomasso,  in  his  old- 
time  Corsican  way,  is  saying  solemnly :  "  'Tis  the 
hand  of  God!" 

But  Marina,  running  to  the  American,  cries :  "  / 
know  the  '  hand  of  God ! '  "  and  sinks  down  uttering 
blessings  on  the  great  pistol  shot. 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  319 

"  By  Goliah,  'tain't  possible  to  do  that  with  a 
revolver  in  this  light,"  mutters  Emory,  pacing  off 
the  distance.  "  Holy  smoke,  you  should  be  proud  of 
them  shots." 

"  It  was  that  wondrous  Orezza  water  that  did  it. 
That  toned  up  my  nerves  after  two  days  of  devilish 
misery,"  remarks  Burton  modestly. 

"  But  grub's  what  I'm  thinking  about,"  says 
Emory ;  "  you  haven't  been  fed  on  spoon-victuals 
for  two  weeks ! "  and  he  dashes  into  the  farm 
house. 

Edwin,  after  slapping  Barnes  upon  the  back,  has 
carried  his  wife,  half-swooning  now  with  joy,  onto 
the  verandah,  when  of  a  sudden,  with  a  roar  like  that 
of  a  hundred-ton  gun,  the  whole  tower  rises  from  its 
base  and  falls  tumbling,  a  mass  of  ruined  masonry, 
and  on  high  there  is  a  flight  of  rocks  like  fireworks. 
Fortunately  the  explosion  has  been  so  strong  that 
the  missiles  nearly  all  fall  into  the  sea,  with  great 
splashing  of  the  water.  They  can  hear  the  cries  of 
terror  from  the  minstrels  in  the  boat  as  they  hastily 
row  away. 

"  My  last  shot  wasn't  quite  quick  enough,"  says 
the  American  dolefully.  "  Hang  me,  if  Cip  didn't 
get  the  torch  to  the  fuse  before  he  died."  Then 
Barnes  suddenly  questions:  "Where's  my  wife? 
Can't  anybody  tell  me  where  is  my  wife?  " 

"  She  was  not  in  that  tower,   anyway ;  that  we 


320  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

know,"  answers  Edwin.  "  We  examined  every  por 
tion  of  it,  trying  to  escape." 

"  Your  wife?  "  cries  Marina.  "  You  should  know! 
I  left  you  going  up  the  stairs  to  her  chamber  in 
Bocognano." 

"  She  wasn't  there?  "  mutters  Burton. 

"  Wasn't  there  ?  My  servant  said  she  was  there. 
Who  was  the  lady  ?  " 

Barnes  doesn't  answer,  but  says  moodily :  "  Then 
I've  got  to  find  Enid.  My  horse  is  just  on  the 
other  side  of  the  crevice." 

"  But  you  are  too  tired." 

"  I'm  never  too  tired  to  find  my  best  girl,"  says 
the  poor  worn-out  fellow,  trying  to  be  cheerful,  and 
steps  down  toward  the  bridge. 

But  from  a  distance  a  pretty  feminine  voice  is 
heard  crying  excitedly :  "  This  is  the  way  to  the 
explosion,  young  Signore  Bellacoscia." 

Then  Barnes's  voice  rings,  really  happy  for  the 
first  time  in  twenty-four  hours :  "  Enid,  that  you  ? 
This  way,  little  girl.  Look  out  for  the  crevice,"  and 
his  long  sought  for  bride  comes  cantering  across  the 
bridge  followed  by  two  young  bandits,  who  announce 
themselves  as  Conrad  and  Rodrigo  Bonelli.  The 
next  second  Enid  has  been  lifted  in  Barnes's  arms 
from  the  saddle. 

"  Where  have  you  been  all  this  time?  "  he  asks 
eagerly. 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  321 

"  Following  you  ever  since  this  morning,  when  the 
great  Bellacoscia  sent  me  on  with  these  two  gentle 
men,  his  nephews,  charging  them  with  their  lives  to 
deliver  me  safe  into  your  hands.  I  came  from 
Bocognano." 

"  And  where  were  you  two  nights  ago  when  I  was 
seeking  you  there?  " 

"  I  was  asleep  at  Saliceti's  home  under  the  influ 
ence  of  a  narcotic.  Oh,  mercy,  don't  look  at  me  so," 
stammers  Enid.  "  I  was  beneath  the  care  of  Sali 
ceti's  mother." 

"  Asleep  under  a  narcotic  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  when  they  were  planning  the  ambush  for 
you,  I  struggled  so  that  Saliceti  and  his  men  forced 
an  anodyne  down  my  throat.  When  I  became  con 
scious,  they  told  me  that  when  the  great  Bellacoscia 
demanded  my  surrender  Bernardo  was  afraid  to  ex 
plain  to  him,  and  some  other  woman  was  substituted 
for  me.  But  when  Saliceti  learnt  that  Bonelli  for  his 
deceit  had  declared  against  him  a  vendetta  that 
meant  his  certain  death,  he  went  to  the  great  bandit, 
confessed  and  surrendered  me  to  him.  Whereupon, 
with  many  kind  words,  Bonelli  sent  me  to  his  '  dear 
friend,  Monsieur  Barnes,  of  New  York,  the  cele 
brated  pistol  shot.'  " 

"  Oh,  the  most  divine  pistol  shot  upon  earth," 
calls  Marina,  running  out  and  embracing  him.  "  By 
his  skill,  Burton  has  killed  the  man  whose  life  forever 


322  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

would  have  been  a  menace  to  us."  Then  gazing  at 
Barnes,  she  laughs :  "  And  I  supposed  you  happy 
for  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  You  remember  I 
left  you  going  up  to  your  wife's  chamber  in  Bocog 
nano." 

"  Going  up  to  my  chamber  in  Bocognano?  "  al 
most  yells  the  young  English  bride.  "  I  cannot 
understand;  I  was  asleep  under  opium  in  charge  of 
Saliceti's  mother." 

"  Oh  no,  you  were  at  my  house.  You  were  waiting 
for  Burton  in  the  guest  chamber  on  the  second  floor. 

Mr.  Barnes  went  up  to  you Good  gracious. 

Edwin,  don't!  Dlo  mio,  what  are  you  squeezing  my 
hand  so  for  ?  " 

"  A  word  in  private  with  you,  Mr.  Barnes," 
whispers  Enid  in  suppressed  tone. 

Barnes,  sheepishly  muttering  to  himself,  "  Our 
first  row,"  follows  his  wife  into  the  shrubbery  of  the 
verandah,  where  they  are  quite  apart. 

"  The  lady  who  was  substituted  for  me?  "  asks  his 
bride  haughtily. 

"  Sally  Blackwood,"  answers  Burton  boldly. 

"La  Belle  Blackwood!  Good  Heavens!  What 
brought  her  there?  "  sudden  tears  springing  up  in 
Enid's  blue  eyes. 

"  She  said  she  came  to  Bocognano  to  save  my  life 
from  the  vendetta.  You  remember  she  had  warned 
me  before,  the  other  evening  in  Nice." 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  323 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  she  sighs ;  then  adds  more 
brightly,  "  I  remember  also,  that  you  told  me" 

Never  up  to  this  time  has  Barnes  so  thoroughly 
appreciated  the  latent  nobility  of  his  sweet  bride. 

She  gazes  at  him  anxiously,  but  only  for  a  moment 
— the  awful  lines  about  her  husband's  face  proclaim 
ing  his  unremitting  pursuit  of  her  for  three  merci 
less  days  and  nights  softens  Enid's  tender  heart. 
She  slips  one  rounded  arm  about  his  neck  and  whis 
pers  :  "  I  shall  never  question  you  about  this.  If 
you  feel  you  can  kiss  me,  Burton,  kiss  me ! "  and  for 
this  gets  a  kiss  whose  longing  ardour  makes  her 
blush. 

"  Ah,  that  was  an  honest  husband's  kiss,"  she  says 
rapturously,  and  for  the  speech  receives  another  that 
makes  her  tremble  with  joy. 

Running  to  Marina,  she  cries :  "  Fancy,  it  was 
that  awful  La  Belle  Blackwood,  who  wanted  to  save 
Burton's  life." 

"  I  am  very  glad  she  didn't  want  to  save  my 
husband's  life,"  laughs  Marina. 

"  The  superb  Madame  Blackwood,"  cries  Rodrigo 
Bonelli,  who  with  excited  exclamations  has  with  his 
brother  been  examining  Barnes's  shots,  "  has  re 
ceived  my  great  uncle's  favour  and  is  about  to 
become  his  spouse.  Let  no*  one  mention  her  name 
lightly." 

"  The  great  bandit's  bride ! "  half  shrieks  Enid. 


324,  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

"The  wife  of  the  grand  Antonio!"  ejaculates 
Marina. 

"  Aye,  and  that  is  why  we  must  soon  take  our 
leave.  To-morrow  is  their  nuptial  day  in  Boco- 
gnano." 

Then  the  ladies  get  to  discussing  this  wondrous 
news,  and  Barnes,  leading  Edwin  aside,  whispers: 
"  We  must  get  the  girls  out  of  here  quick.  If  we 
vamoose  now,  probably  the  explosion  of  the  tower  and 
those  bodies  will  be  attributed  to  the  riotous  '  Luc- 
chese.5 '  The  American's  tone  is  awed,  he  reflects 
that  till  this  last  dire  episode  of  his  life,  no  human 
being  had  ever  fallen  to  his  fatal  pistol. 

"  By  gum,"  remarks  the  detective,  who  is  gaunt 
with  much  fasting,  coming  out  of  the  house,  "  there 
was  a  fine  supper  for  two  setting  there,  with  white 
flowers  and  champagne.  I  finished  it  all." 

Marina's  face  flames.  She  knows  for  whom  the 
nuptial  supper  was  designed,  and  as  Edwin  suggests 
leaving,  cries  :  "  Yes,  quick,  from  this  awful  place !  " 

"  You're  quite  right — now  get  away  smart — they 
may  think  it  was  bloody  Italians,"  observes  Emory, 
and  makes  himself  useful  helping  the  ladies  down  to 
the  sea,  to  which  some  steep  steps  on  the  further  side 
of  the  cliff  lead  them. 

From  a  little  jetty  Barnes  hails  a  boat  that  is 
apparently  in  waiting  from  the  fishing  vessel.  To 
the  captain  of  the  craft  who  is  in  the  boat's  stern,  he 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  325 

cries :  "  The  '  Lucchese  '  are  making  a  row  all  along 
the  coast.  We  must  leave  at  once." 

"  Yes,  the  rocks  that  fell  about  us  from  the  explo 
sion  told  us  that,"  answers  the  captain,  anxious  to 
leave  this  dangerous  anchorage.  But  as  the  party 
board  his  boat,  he  mutters :  "  Count  Cipriano  and 
his  nephew?  " 

"  They  are  trying  to  protect  their  vines  and  crops 
from  the  fi  Lucchese.'  We  are  not  to  wait  for  them. 
You  remember,  the  Count  said  a  lady  would  be  on 
board.  Your  charter  money." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  cries  the  captain,  pocketing  some  bills, 
as  his  men  row  them  to  the  fishing  vessel,  where  he 
orders  his  sails  set. 

Barnes  tells  the  skipper  to  steer  to  Villefranche 
harbour.  As  he  turns  away  Emory  edges  beside  him 
and  whispers :  "  This  is  the  infernal  felucca,  in 
whose  hold  I  banged  about  from  St.  Tropez." 

The  two  Bellacoscia  have  assisted  the  ladies  to  the 
deck. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  asks  Barnes  of  the  young 
bandits,  "  what  can  I  do  for  you  for  bringing  me  my 
wife?  " 

"  You  can  give  us  the  pistols  that  make  incredible 
shots,"  answers  one  of  the  young  men. 

"  By  them  we  will  kill  many  gendarmes,"  whispers 
the  other. 

"  Sorry  for  the  gendarmes,  but  the  pistols  go," 


326  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

laughs  Barnes,  and  passes  his  weapons  to  these  nice 
young  bandits,  who,  after  kissing  the  ladies'  handsr 
take  their  leave  with  many  words  of  gratitude  and 
thanks. 

"  I  fear  I'm  leaving  murder  behind  me,"  sighs  the 
American. 

"  Yes,  nothing  will  cure  this  country  but  half  a 
dozen  railroads,"  remarks  the  detective.  "  Then 
you're  able  to  get  about  and  handcuff  a  man." 

The  vessel  is  soon  under  way,  leaving  the  Corsican 
coast.  The  ladies,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  are  asleep 
in  the  little  cabin,  where  there  is  only  room  for 
two. 

As  their  husbands  seated  on  the  deck  are  smoking 
languidly  their  cigars,  Barnes  whispers  to  Edwin: 
"  I  rather  imagine  this  vendetta  is  settled  for  good. 
Marina  is  again  beloved  by  the  people  of  her  com 
mune,  and  you  will  be  honoured  when  you  go  back 
with  her  to  visit  her  estates." 

"AndtheDanellas?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  there  will  be  much  said  about 
them.  The  '  Lucchese '  have  been  raising  the  devil 
in  the  last  few  days.  Anyway,  Cip  had  to  be 
planted ;  he  was  the  dangerous  one ;  he  was  the 
money  of  the  affair.  You  and  I  will  be  now  able  to 
walk  down  Piccadilly  or  Fifth  Avenue  and  not  squint 
over  our  shoulders — and  if  our  brides  disappear 
we'll  seek  for  them  at  Delmonico's  or  the  Langham, 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  327 

and  not  at  some  Baxter  Street  rendezvous  of  the 
Black  Hand  or  some  Whitechapel  haunt  of  foreign 
stiletto  gentlemen." 

On  the  following  noon  the  felucca  is  anchored  at 
Villefranche.  As  the  party  disembark  at  the  pretty 
landing  stage,  Maud,  running  down  the  path,  greets 
them  with :  "  My,  you  are  scarecrows !  " 

"  Happy  scarecrows ! "  cries  Enid,  as  Barnes 
tenderly  lifts  her  from  the  boat.  Then  they  all  go 
up  to  Lady  Chartris's  villa,  followed  by  old  Tomasso, 
contentedly  smoking  a  pipe,  and  Emory  in  consulta 
tion  with  Barnes  and  Edwin  as  to  silence  in  regard 
to  the  slain  Danellas  and  bringing  Graham  and  the 
Seagull  back.  In  her  parlour  they  are  received  with 
many  sighs  by  Lady  Chartris,  who  says  mournfully : 
"  I'm  going  back  to  London.  Do  you  know  that 
after  that  night  you  left,  that  wretched  Cipriano  has 
never  visited  me?  " 

To  avoid  discussing  Danella,  Enid  and  Marina 
run  upstairs  to  get  on  civilised  clothes,  the  former 
says. 

"  Oh,  mama,"  cries  Maud,  breaking  into  the  room 
with  the  Nice  morning  paper  in  her  hand,  "  that 
detective  is  eating  up  everything  in  the  house,  and 
old  Tomasso  is  chuckling  over  this  telegram  from 
Corsica :  '  Saliceti,  the  vendetta  man,  is  defeated  for 
the  chamber  of  deputies  ' — and — here's  bad  news  for 
you,  Barnsey — La  Belle  Blackwood  is  being  married 


328  MR.    BARNES,    AMERICAN 

this  morning  in  Bocognano  to  the  great  bandit  who 
kills  so  many,  the  one  they  call  the  Bellacoscia." 

"  Hush,  my  child,"  shudders  her  mother,  "  don't 
mention  that  horrible  creature's  name." 

"  Oh,  I  can  speak  of  her  now,  mama,  dear,"  re 
marks  Maud,  naively ;  "  Blackey  is  now  an  honest 
wife." 

"  You  bet  Sally  will  make  Bonelli  a  thoroughly 
honest  wife,"  sneers  Barnes  in  a  whisper  to  Edwin. 
"  No  flirtatious  glances  at  other  mountain  cavaliers, 
or  the  dagger  in  the  back  for  both,  biff!  I  reckon 
that  kiss  I  gave  Sally  the  other  night  in  Bocognano 
is  Sally's  last  outside  kiss  for  a  deuced  long 
t-t-time." 

The  careless  words  gurgle  in  his  throat.  Enid 
standing  in  the  conservatory,  dressed  in  some  light 
white  carriage  costume,  looking  like  a  fairy  bride, 
cries  sweetly  but  possessively :  "  Burton,  I'm  going 
to  take  you  with  me  into  Nice,  shopping!  " 

"  Oh,  good  Lord,  now  I  know  I'm  married," 
laughs  Mr.  Barnes. 

"  Gee,  you'll  never  be  married  really  till  you  give 
me  that  bridesmaid  present !  "  pouts  Maud  savagely. 

Exquisite  blushes  rise  to  Enid's  face. 

"  Right  you  are,  Maudie,"  cries  Mr.  Barnes  ex 
citedly.  "  We'll  get  you  the  finest  kind  of  gift  this 
very  morning." 

"  Oh,  it  must  be  something  very  handsome,"  an- 


WHIFFS    IN    THE    AIR  329 

swers  the  bride  enthusiastically.  "  We're  going  to 
be  so  happy." 

Burton  leads  his  wife  to  the  victoria,  puts  her 
carefully  in,  seats  himself  beside  her  and  says  casu 
ally  to  Lady  Chartris,  who  has  come  to  the  door  with 
them :  "  By  the  bye,  we  shan't  be  back  for  a  week." 

"  Oh,  mercy,  I — I  have  no  baggage,"  falters 
Enid. 

"  Sent  on  ahead  with  Tompson." 

^  Where  are  you  going  to  take  me,  dear  ?  " 

"  To  a  nice  little  Swiss  canton  where  there  are 
plenty  of  mountains,  but  no  bandits  or  vendettas. 
By  the  lord  Harry,  I'm  tired  of  taking  separate  wed 
ding  tours,"  he  adds  savagely. 

"  Y-e-s,  Burton."  His  beautiful  wife  snuggles  a 
little  closer  to  the  ardent  Barnes.  Then  she  starts 
up  with  a  little  scream  as  an  old  slipper  thrown  by 
Maud  nearly  knocks  off  her  hat,  and  Edwin  and 
Marina  from  the  window  above  are  laughing  and 
showering  rice  and  flowers  on  her. 

The  sun  is  shining  very  brightly  as  Mr.  and  Mrs- 
Barnes  of  New  York  drive  into  Nice. 


FINIS 


—~s-'      • 


G977 

-n 


T.'r  ,3ar r  e  s  ,  Ame  r  i  c  an 


948192 


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